Second Chance
by Rabid Gerbil 666
Summary: A girl from the 21st century makes a wish and finds herself in 1800's. Can she rewrite history, or is the past doomed to repeat itself? EC (or is it EOW), please r and r
1. The End

**(A/N: I do not own any of the characters or any of the places in this story. I am pretty sure that most of you are smart enough to realize that and won't need a constant reminder at the beginning of each chapter.)**

**The End**

I walked down the crowded streets of New York, hurrying so as not to be late. Try as I might, however, the bevy of busy New Yorkers kept me from moving any quicker than a slow crawl. I would never get to the theater in time! Just when I had given up all hope of ever reaching the theater in time, I saw it. A glowing beacon of hope amidst the chaos of New York. The Majestic Theater! I could hear the hallelujah chorus singing! Pushing the people out of my way, and receiving many crude comments from the jostled gaggle of business executives and junkies, I ran toward the theater.

Upon entering the building, I was relieved to find that the play hadn't started yet. I quickly made my way to my seat. Once I had removed my jacket to reveal my Phantom of the Opera t-shirt to the world, I sat down on the plush seats. The lights dimmed, and I tuned out of life in this world and into another, magical world of masks and roses. "Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces."

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I exited the Majestic Theater, tears streaming down my face. It was just so sad! So beautiful, yet so sad! Once again, I had burst into tears as soon as the phantom sang, "Christine, I love you." Then she gave him back the ring he had stolen from her. That made me want to cry even harder. I was a hopeless, love-sick seventeen year old. Can you blame me, though? I think not!

A kindly old woman came up to me and asked me if everything was okay. I had to suppress the urge to start laughing uncontrollably, for of course everything was okay! I had just seen the most wonderful musical on the face of this planet for the third time this week (Phantom, in case you didn't catch on yet)! I quickly reassured her that I was fine and continued on my way.

My "family" lives in a small apartment in Manhattan. Fortunately, we did not need too much room. Only my older sister, who was twenty-one years old, and I live here, along with our pet goldfish, Angel and Erik. You can guess where the names came from. I went directly to my room, only pausing briefly to say hello to my older sister, who was busy slaving away in the kitchen preparing dinner. Like the rest of my house, the hallway to my room was decorated in the style of Victorian England, complete with frills and ornate furniture. My room was the exception. The walls were painted in the colors seen on the stage during Point of no Return. The bedspread was black, and the walls were red. My room was (literally!) a temple dedicated to my God of music, Erik. Phantom of the Opera merchandise was everywhere! There were posters, replicas of his mask, and even some pictures that I had attempted to draw, rather badly. I turned on my stereo to listen to Michael Crawford's voice for the second time today and sat down at my ancient computer.

I was mildly surprised to discover that my computer actually worked, as it was slightly temperamental and wasn't exactly the newest model around. I quickly logged on to my screen name, ChrissyD88, and went to the best website for phantom-obsessed adolescents who desperately wanted the story to end with Christine and Erik together forever. While reading a particularly fantastic story, I noticed that someone was attempting to instant-message me. I did not recognize the screen name FaerieDust1130. They must have simply gotten my screen name from one of the chat rooms I frequent, I thought.

I decided to talk to this person; maybe they enjoyed the Phantom of the Opera as well. "Hey!" I typed to FaerieDust1130. "Who r u?" I asked.

"Im Faerie Dust! Who r u?" the person typed in response.

"Im Christine Daae." I replied. I figured it was safe to use my real name. No one believed that I was really named Christine Daae.

"Christine, I have a question 4 u," Faerie Dust typed. "If u could make 1 person, alive, dead, fictional or non, happy, who would it b?" She asked.

I must admit that I had always felt rather sympathetic towards Erik. After all, who wouldn't feel bad for a sexy musical genius who gets denied his one chance at true love by a childish brat? Although I had the same name as Christine, I still hated her. Even if she was only fictional. I mean, she was such an ingénue that she couldn't even tell the difference between an angsty sex-god and a foppish pretty-boy! I typed my response and hit enter without even thinking. "Erik. The Phantom of the Opera."

"4 something good 2 happen, something equally bad must happen." was what she typed after seeing my response. I figured that she was just playing a silly game with me. I didn't think that she could be doing anything other than playing games. After all, who had the ability to change history?

"I would still do it." I typed to her.

"Then it is done!" she replied, then she logged off.

What the hell? was all that I could think.

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The next night, I was walking over to my friend's house. It was a gorgeous night, not a cloud in the sky. There was a light breeze in the spring air, and I twirled around once with my arms out. Of course, the ribbon in my hair flew away.

I ran to go get it. It lay in the middle of an empty street. Of course I was going to get it! There were no cars around! As I crossed the street, however, a truck came careening down the street, seemingly from nowhere. It was obvious that the driver was drunk, for the car was going way over the speed limit and weaving across the road wildly. It was impossible for me to get off of the road in time. I just prayed to God that the driver would see me. God did not listen. Everything went cold and black.

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I opened my eyes groggily. Surprisingly, I felt no pain even though a pickup truck had run over me. As my eyes focused on my surroundings, I noticed many tombstones scattered about the lush green hills. That pretty much gave away the fact that I was in a cemetary. There was a small crowd of people standing near me. Who died? I wondered. Most of the people at the funeral were my friends and teachers. I also saw my sister in the group, crying her eyeballs out. What happened?

I walked around all of them and then looked at the one thing that all of them were staring at. When I saw the coffin and a picture of me, cut out of the yearbook, I started screaming! I was dead? I couldn't be dead! After a few minutes of my spazing, I was capable of thinking somewhat clearly again. That is, as clearly as anyone in my situation could possibly think. That was when I noticed that no one had paid any heed to my screeching. In fact, everyone seemed oblivious to the fact that I was even here!

I walked in front of my best friend, Anna Marie. Even though my I stood directly in front of her, she seemed to be looking through me as if I weren't even here! I waved my hand frantically in front of her face, frantically trying to get her attention. When I could bear it no more, I slapped her hard on the face in desperation. To my horror, my hand passed directly through her as if I was a gho-…Damn! I was dead! I had seen my coffin already, and I was undoubtedly dead! Shit, I swore. This is bull shi-

"Please calm yourself, Christine!" I was interrupted by an elderly woman sitting nearby. He4r steel grey hair was pulled into a sever bun, and she was _tall!_ She was probably almost six feet tall! Unlike most of the older women that I met, she did not possess a quiet and fragile demeanor. She seemed to be surrounded by an aura of dignity and knowledge and held herself proudly and erect. I had never seen her before in my life.

"Who the Hell are you? What the Hell is going on? Why the Hell am I dead?" I asked, a little pissed to realize that I was dead. I did not care that she could see me while no one else could. I just wanted answers, and I wanted them now!

"I'm Faerie Dust, remember?" she said. "Do you remember the question that I asked you yesterday?" she inquired, not put off by my furious cursing. I just stared at her, so she sighed and elaborated. "I asked you whose life you would change if given the chance. You replied that you would change the Phantom's life."

"Just because I said that it would be nice change someone's life doesn't mean that I want to die!" I shouted. Why was I dead?

"You were supposed to die anyways. I just made sure that you could do something else after you died." Now I was furious. I was SUPPOSED to die? How the Hell did that work out? Then it dawned on me. She must have known that the truck was going to turn me into road kill before it happened. Well, at least now I have a second chance at living. But how?

As if she read my mind, she replied to my unspoken question, "You will come back to life, but in a different time and different place. You will come back as Christine Daae, the phantom's Christine. You will remember nothing of this conversation. Let's see if you could do better than your 'predecessor' managed to do."

Predecessor? Coming back as a new person over one hundred years ago? How the Hell does this happen? I glanced over at my sister, who was still oblivious to my presence. I walked over to her to place a kiss on her teary cheek. Goodbye, big sis. I love you. Then I looked to the appropriately cloudy sky. Well, here goes nothing. When I turned back around, I saw a black void at the spot where "Faerie Dust" (if that was her real name) had previously been standing. The last thing that I remembered was me thinking, What the fuck?

**(A/N- Rio, deal with the language! It won't be as bad in the other chapters. I promise.)**


	2. New Life

**(A/N: I have no clue what time of day Christine really did arrive at the Opera Populaire. I also don't know her exact age. It's just a guesstimate. Also, I will not be updating for a while because I will be skiing in Vail, Colorado! YAY!)**

**A New Life**

The hansom cab clattered noisily over the cobblestone streets of Paris. The grey, stormy weather perfectly matched my mood. The rhythmic jostling of the cab had lulled me into pensive thought. As we passed a music shop, I saw a violin sitting in the window. Tears threatened to spill forth from my puffy, bloodshot eyes once more. My father, Gustaav Daae, had recently perished, leaving behind a ten year old girl to be taken care of by a family friend named Madame Giry.

My father hadn't believed me when I told him that he would die. Whenever I woke up from bad dreams about his death, he shrugged off my warnings, saying that they were only nightmares and nothing more. And now, the one whom my world revolved around was dead. My dreams had been telling me of his demise for many years now, ever since I was six years old. They were odd, those dreams that came to me every night. They always held a girl, a girl who looked exactly like me, who I knew was me and yet… she wasn't me at the same time. She lived in a totally different world, filled with almost magical things that, somehow in the deep recesses of my mind, I knew would come to be. Things like metal carriages, moving faster than any animal could, and boxes that had glass screens. Those screens held pictures that did not stay still, indeed it seemed as though the people and things depicted in those moving pictures were alive! So many wonders!

The dreams that I had every night always seemed to be the memories of the girl. Once, I dreamed about the time when the girl went to the circus for the first time. The circus was so different then than the ones that my father had taken me to. There were fewer "freaks" and more colorful clowns, fewer gypsies and more feats of bravery and comedy. Another time I dreamed of the girl's visit to her grandparent's house on Christmas Day. I could almost smell the savory roasted goose that her grandmother had cooked. The dreams about my life, and my future, however, started on the night of my sixth birthday. When my head hit the pillow, I was quickly asleep and dreaming of the little girl, whom I had then discovered shared the same name as me, and her birthday, which she also shared with me. Her parents had taken her to see a play on Broadway. I saw the play with the girl, and the whole play upset me slightly. It was about a girl, also named Christine Daae, and a phantom.

In the play, which was set in the year 1871, an orphaned girl goes to live in the Opera Populaire. A mysterious phantom teaches her to sing and Christine eventually gets to be the lead in the play Hannibal, but her childhood sweetheart, Raoul de Chagny, had seen her and started courting her. His interest in Christine, however, caused the phantom to become furious, and eventually the poor Opera Ghost lost his wits and tried to kidnap Christine. In the end, he released her, destined to a life alone.

What really bothered me about the play was the fact that a) Raoul de Chagny _was_ a childhood friend of mine, b) the other characters seemed to have the same names as people that she knew, c) the play was set during the right time period, and Christine in the play was born the same day as both Dream Christine and me, and d) if the play was true, I only had four more years left to spend with my father. At the last thought, I woke up from my slumber and started crying and shrieking, waking my father up.

It had been four years since that awful, and yet enlightening dream. I now knew that the play, as well as the books that Dream Christine so often read, were based on my experiences in life. The end of the stories, however, always bothered me. I wonder if the future is set in stone, or if it can be changed? I was startled out of my musings when the cab came to a stop in front of an enormous, grand building. The Opera Populaire.

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"_Sissy, big sissy, wake up! C'mon, big sissy, you need to wake up!" I said to my older sister. She was thirteen years old, and I idolized her more than anything in the world, other than, of course, my mother. Unfortunately, my mother had been dead for two years now. It had been a shock to my then eight year-old self, but I had adjusted. Now, however, it seemed that we would be adjusting to another death. When my sister woke up, groggy, I stuttered the words, "Father died." Immediately, my sister shot out of bed where the still form of my father lay on his bed. She checked his pulse, but since there was none she called 911, unsure of what else to do. _

_A man in a white hospital uniform came out with a mournful look on his face. He quietly told my sister and I that my father had intentionally overdosed on sleeping pills that had been prescribed to him after mother had died. He asked us if we wanted to see him, and, though I knew he was dead and there was only his dead body that lay in that room I followed him in. I was left alone when suddenly a particularly loud clap of thunder shook the room I was in. The lights flickered off. I was alone. In the dark. Alone. I felt a cold, clammy hand touch mine… _

I sat up, gasping for breath. Through the tears that streamed out of my eyes, I could see that I was not in my room in my father's house outside of Paris, but I was instead in a dormitory of the Opera House. I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to drown out the sounds of my peer's snoring and sort my thoughts. So, as it turned out, Dream Christine's father had died the same day, some years in the future, as my dad had. It was odd, for though some of the details about our lives matched up, others did not. For instance, I had no sister. No sister to comfort me and care for me. The closest person to a sister that I had was Meg Giry, and she was a far cry from the older sister that Dream Christine had. I had no older sister to hold me when my father had died.

When my thoughts turned back to my father, I immediately started weeping once more. My eyes were still red from my crying during the day, and I thought that I had cried out all of the tears in my body. Apparently not. Whispering, so as not to wake the girls who slept peacefully in the room, I called out to the angel of music that my father had promised me. Although the angel was no older sister, perhaps he could comfort me all the same.

I wasn't actually surprised to hear a voice call out to me, to console me. I had expected this. After all, I had seen the "future," so to speak, and my father had, after all, promised me an angel. I guess that even flesh and blood could be angelic. The voice of my guardian certainly was. "Angel, is that you?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

My angel paused for a moment, and I smiled inwardly. After all, how often is it that a ghost gets called an angel? After the moment's hesitation, he responded, "I am."


	3. An Angel in Hell

**(A/N- sorry about last chapter, I had writers block and I couldn't think of a more interesting way to inform everyone about the "dreams." Anyways, enjoy. Hopefully you all will like this chapter!)**

**An Angel in Hell**

"Christine Daae could sing in the opera." My wonderful friend, Meg Giry, had just nominated me to replace La Carlotta, who had just stormed out after a backdrop landed on her. Oh, I love you so much, Meg. Now I have to think of a "wonderful" way to repay you.

"Let her sing. She has been well taught." Thanks a heap, Madame Giry. I hadn't known that she was aware of my lessons with my "Angel of Music," but I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. She seemed to know _everything!_

"Go ahead, Mademoiselle Daae." Was the response from Monsieur Firmin. I stepped forward and was about to sing when I heard the two new managers debating whether or not this was such a good idea. I started singing anyways, and the managers shut up as soon as they heard me. That was nice of them, as I didn't need the distraction.

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After the performance, I was visited by a friend from the past, a person whom I hadn't seen for many years. Raoul de Chagny. He was charming, as usual, but it irked me a little that he automatically presumed that I wanted to go to dinner with him. Yes, I had missed him, but I had just performed an entire opera and was now thoroughly exhausted. I guess only a performer could understand just how taxing physically singing could be.

As soon as Raoul left me, I heard the voice of my "angel," Erik. He was obviously not pleased that that "slave of fashion" had paid me a visit. I quickly apologized, as it is never a good idea for one to be on the bad side of the Opera Ghost. Once I had finished sucking up to my Angel, he offered to show me who he truly was. Of course I said yes! The large, ornately gilded mirror that hung on the was swung open, revealing my Angel. He was more or less what I had expected. He stood a good six feet four inches tall, and, though he was rather lean, he was very strong. His black hair was slicked back from a face half covered with a white leather mask. The left side of his face was _extremely_ handsome! It looked as though his face was a replica of a Roman God! So gorgeous! Flawless! I knew better than to expect the same on the other side of his face, but still!

He invited me down to his home under the opera house, and even though I had dismissed one suitor because of my fatigue, I decided to go with my Angel. Of course I wouldn't turn down _that_ invitation! When he stretched his gloved hand out to me from the mirror in my dressing room, I felt an odd sense of déjà vu. Life was getting kind of predictable, huh?

I took his had without thinking, and even though his hand had a leather glove on it, I could feel the heat radiate from his body. The contact between the two of us, however small, sent my stomach doing flip-flops. That's odd, I've never felt that before.

He led the way, his hand never leaving mine. I loved the way he walked! It was so graceful, so elegant. He seemed to float, almost as though he really was the angel that he claimed to be. When we reached the gondola on the subterranean lake under the opera house, he carefully guided me to my seat in the front of the small boat and gestured for me to sit down. Once I was situated, he started rowing across the lake, which probably wasn't an easy task I might add.

We finally reached our destination, and my angel helped me out of the boat, catching me when I inevitable stumbled. Of course, I had always been a bit of a klutz, especially in front of gorgeous, sensual men. That's why I was never such a good dancer. I could see a smile tug at the corners of my angel's lips when I almost fell. Ah, well, at least I had been, however temporarily, in the strong embrace of my guardian angel.

Once I had composed myself, Erik started singing to me. I had never truly heard his voice, for he had always sung quietly, almost in a whisper, for fear of being discovered. His voice, his entire being, contradicted itself. His voice sounded of winged seraphs in heaven and burning demons in Hell. It sounded so sweet, and yet so bitter. I could even see such contradicting emotions in his eyes. Joy, sorrow, and an unidentifiable emotion that I had not seen in another being, at least not when they looked at me. It seemed to be related to the feeling that I got when I sang, a sort of passion, but it was not a passion I was familiar with. Oh, well. I would ponder this later. All I wanted to do then was lose myself in the music. The music of the night.

I began to struggle with concentration, though, for I was now extremely fatigued. Unable to stand any longer, I collapsed once more into Erik's arms. While continuing to sing, my angel carried me into a separate room and placed me gently onto a large bed. The last thing that I remember before drifting off entirely was Erik singing the end of the song._ You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night._

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I woke the next morning, or at least I assumed it was morning (one can never really tell what time of day it is five stories under ground, can they?) to the sound of an organ playing gently in the next room. I decided to go investigate, so I made myself presentable and entered the next room. I opened the door to a large but cluttered music room. There were musical instruments and various other items strewn all across the room. Dominating the room was a rather large, and might I add beautifully made, pipe organ. It had papers with various compositions sitting on every surface of the organ except for the keys themselves. Sitting at the organ was Erik.

He seemed not to have noticed my presence yet, so I crept up to him quietly. I didn't want to disturb him from his music. By the time I reached him, I was sure that he was now aware of my presence, though he was too engrossed in his music to actually acknowledge it. Oh, well. I understood.

I sat down on the bench of the organ to the left of him. Finally! He actually turned to look at me! Neither of us spoke, as both of us were staring into the other's eyes. I started blushing and wanted to look away, and yet I couldn't. In another sense, I didn't want to ever stop looking at him.

I reached up my hand, slowly so as not to startle him, and started exploring the left side of his face with my fingertips. Erik closed his eyes, unable to look at me any longer. I guess that total isolation doesn't prepare you for human contact. Even throughout our little staring contest and my gentle stroking of his face, Erik continued to play the organ. He didn't even hesitate once!

My sensitive fingertips felt every inch of smooth, clean-shaven skin on his perfect side of his face. I wondered what the other side of his face looked like? I knew that it was far from perfect, but I was young and, of course, curious. And I was sure that his misshapen face would not frighten me. After all, in my dreams I had seen many versions of Erik's face, and not even the most frightening one scared me.

Without thinking, I let my fingers slid from the left side of his face to rip off the leather mask covering the right side of his face. Before I knew it, I was pushed off of the bench and landed unceremoniously on the ground. The music had stopped. Standing over me was a furious Angel. I let my eyes wander up to his face, and was I was shocked when I saw it. It was not normal, and it was clearly distorted, but at the same time it wasn't too bad. Some of the versions that I had seen were much more hideous than the face looming above me. I think that the only reason his face might be called "terrifying" was because it stood in such sharp contrast to the other, flawless side of his face.

Even though Hollywood had prepared me for his face, nothing could have prepared me for his rage! He was shouting at me, calling me cruel names, and taunting me. "Well, you wanted to see me, so look! Look at me! Aren't you going to run away, screaming? You little viper!"

I stood up slowly, trying my hardest to fight back my tears. I also had to fight hard to bite back my angry retorts to his temper.

I faced him, defiance in my eyes. I would not let him frighten me away, just because he was wallowing in self-pity! This was absurd, his reaction! All that I had done was remove his mask!

When he saw that I was standing only a few feet away, unafraid, he faltered. I doubt that anyone else had gone this long without screaming or running away. My open defiance seemed to shock him, for he surely mustn't have expected me to stand, unafraid.

Without warning, Erik stopped his ranting entirely. I saw a flicker of _fear_, of all things, cross his face! He, a giant man who could probably break me in half, was afraid of me? That was an odd turn of events. I saw all anger leave his face as quickly as it had come, followed by an even more frightening set of emotions. Fear and hurt.

We stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but was really no longer than a few seconds. Suddenly, Erik spun and left the room. His stride no longer held the grace and confidence it had possessed yesterday. Now, Erik looked like a frightened, overgrown child…

Oh, shit! Now I understood! The only people before, **in his entire life**, who had not been afraid of him were those who had laughed at him and beaten him regularly. He must have thought that I would act as cruel as the rest of the world had!

I quickly ran into the room that Erik had entered, hoping desperately that there were no sharp objects in his room. I really didn't want him testing his skills when he was in a suicidal or murderous mood. To my surprise, the room that I entered was a dark, empty room. The only object, other than a single candle, was a coffin. How odd.

In the furthest, darkest corner of the room I could make out a shape huddled in the shadows. I tip-toed over to Erik and stood only a foot away from him. It wasn't going to be dangerous for me to be in such close proximity to my demon. He was far too distraught to cause me any harm. My maternal instincts started kicking in at that moment, so I gently knelt on the cold, damp flagstones (he really did need someone to redecorate his room!) beside Erik and cradled him in my arms. At least, I came as close as I could to cradling him in my arms, as he was a good foot taller than me.

Tearless sobs racked his body, and I unconsciously crooned soothing words, trying desperately to comfort my angel. Without even thinking, I bent down and kissed him on his distorted cheek. Instantly he froze up, petrified and unable to move. Oh my God, what had I done? When I tasted a single, salty tear that had managed to escape from his golden eye, heat rushed through my veins. I felt like I was on fire! My stomach flip-flopped again, only much worse this time. If I hadn't been kneeling, I'm sure my knees would have given way beneath me! Wow!

It took about a half an hour for my teacher regained his composure. I saw that confusingly passionate look in his eyes, the same one I had seen last night. Also, he wore a look of, dare I say it, gratitude. Why, my angel almost seemed grateful to me, though why I didn't know.

Abruptly, Erik stood up, pulling me up with him. He led me back into the cluttered music room and donned his leather mask once more. Then he said, "come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you." Although his manner was slightly cold, he could not hide the warmth in his golden eyes. Those eyes seemed to burn with a fire, constantly flickering, constantly burning… I had, unknowingly, broken one of the ice walls that guarded his heart when I had placed that single, chaste kiss on his cheek. I couldn't help but feel triumphant.

**(Sorry if you thought that Christine or Erik were out of character. For Erik, I don't think that "lying Delilah" would have really been angry enough for my purposes. As for Christine, you must remember this isn't _really_ Christine, so she can have a bit more backbone. I hope you enjoyed it!)**


	4. The Rooftop

**(Did you all like the touchy-feely moment last chapter? I hope you did…Also, I am changing what really happened…slightly. You'll see)**

**The Rooftop**

Apparently, while I had been asleep in Erik's home, he had sent various letters to the management. He had dictated that I would perform the lead role in Il Muto. Of course, La Carlotta and the managers, Andre and Firmin, refused adamantly. The managers were more afraid of losing the resident diva than the wrath of the "Opera Ghost." They didn't quite realize that they were making a huge mistake, but then they had always been a bit thick-skulled.

So I was assigned the silent role, while La Carlotta got the role of the Countess. I more or less expected that to happen, as La Carlotta _always_ got the lead in plays. I never really understood why. To me, she had always sounded somewhat like a goat.

Opening night dawned near, and my Phantom had been unusually quiet during rehearsals. That in itself was odd, as he almost never missed an opportunity to wreak havoc and mayhem. He still privately instructed me in secret, but he often seemed distracted, as though he were plotting something…

On opening night, I discovered what Erik had been concocting. La Carlotta had been performing her best, that is to say, her worst, and the audience members, oddly enough, were enjoying the performance. Things were going rather smoothly, and the managers were _extremely_ pleased with La Carlotta. I secretly think that they were smitten with her… ha-ha, imagine that! All of a sudden, while Carlotta was singing, Erik threw his voice over the crowd and asked, "Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?"

Without thinking, I murmured, "He's here." Apparently, the Prima Donna, being the control freak that she is, did not approve of me speaking. I'm willing to bet that she would have thrown a hissy fit if one of the cast members so much as cleared their throats while she was singing.

"Your part is silent, little toad," reprimanded La Carlotta.

My Phantom noticed when La Carlotta chastised me and said quietly, "A toad, Madame? Perhaps it is you who are the toad." No one else in the theater seemed to hear that remark except for myself. Uh, oh, he was definitely up to no good. From now on, I vowed, he would be going no where without a keeper, a leash, and a heavy dose of Ritalin.

I had, mercifully, been able to think these thoughts while performing, so I had been blissfully deaf to La Carlotta's voice. Until a giant croak was omitted from her throat, of course. That definitely got my attention, along with the rest of the crowd's. The croaking continued as streams of tears made their way down Carlotta's cheeks. Wow, and I thought she sounded bad before! Notice how I am not terribly sympathetic. That is because she was such a domineering bitc- Abruptly, she was ushered off of the stage and I was being shoved into her costume. Well, I guess I would be lead after all.

It got worse, though. Much, much worse. The ballet had been performing while I prepared to go onstage. Suddenly, Joseph Buquet, one of the stage hands, dropped from above the stage. Around his neck was a piece of rope. Oh, dear God. What had Erik done? Damn him!

I rushed out of my dressing room and up the many flights of stairs leading to the roof, moving as quickly as a corset would permit. I felt a prickly sensation on the back of my neck, the one that you get when someone is looking at you. I knew that I was being followed by someone, and I guessed that it was Erik. If it was, he certainly had a lot of explaining to do!

I reached the rooftop and stood near the edge, looking out at the extravagantly illuminated city and the black, cloudless sky with unseeing eyes. I thought of everything and nothing as memories assaulted my mind. I did not hear heavy footsteps, nor did I hear the sound of someone breathing. I was completely unaware that I was not alone until my companion placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I spun around and saw Raoul.

I let out a sigh, hoping he would mistake it for one of relief and not one of annoyance. Couldn't he tell I wanted to be alone? Apparently not. As if on cue, he started rambling on and on about him keeping me safe. He wanted me to confide in him and tell him everything. I wasn't going to do that! I hardly even knew him any more!

Then, once he had exhausted all of the possibilities of _that_ conversation, he proposed to me!_ Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. _ My God, I hardly even knew the guy anymore! I guess that he thought I was still his innocent Little Lotte. Oddly, even though he bored me, I enjoyed his company. He was a friend of mine. That was why I could not find the heart to turn him down on his proposal, at least not outright.

I did tell him that I needed to think about his proposition for a little while. Then I made it quite clear, without being impolite, that I wanted a little privacy. He kindly humored me and left.

Once he was gone, I said, "Alright, come on out Erik. You have a _lot_ of explaining to do!" Obediently, Erik appeared from the shadows. I saw anger in his eyes again, but also, for some odd reason, betrayal. "Erik, why did you kill Buquet?" I asked bluntly. A look of shock replaced his look of anger. The betrayal still remained firmly in place, however.

"You think that I killed Buquet?" he questioned incredulously, seemingly surprised that I could assume him capable of murder.

"Well, did you?"

"No." Hmm, that was surprising. I decided not to falter, and continued the interrogation.

"Then what happened?" At this he paused, but continued at the steely look in my eye.

"He was drunk - again. I am assuming that he leaned over to get a look at the ballerinas. He must have leaned into some rope or something, I wasn't actually there. Then he must have tripped or leaned over too far and fallen, with a bit of rope still around his neck." Well, his explanation did seem logical, and I really wasn't in the mood to hold a grudge. I decided to just live and let live. "And what were you doing with the Viscomte?" he asked. He seemed to spit out Raoul's title like there was an unsavory taste in his mouth. That irked me.

"He followed me up here. I had come to seek isolation, knowing that you would probably follow me." I replied to his question.

"And he proposed to you?" he asked angrily, his face nearing mine. His voice was no more than a whisper. I refused to be intimidated.

"Yes, he did. I did not, however, agree to marry him. I said neither yes, nor no."

With that, Erik slammed his fist into a nearby statue. "Why don't you just go to your little palace with your perfect Viscomte?" I could tell he was trying to hide the hurt in his voice, and he was failing miserably.

"I don't want to." was my simple reply.

"Then why didn't you say no?" Erik questioned, the hope and betrayal in his eyes almost too much for me to bear. "Why couldn't you just be rid of him?"

"Because he reminds me of a simpler time, when father was still alive and life was carefree." Two tears made their way down my cheeks. Erik's attitude softened considerably.

Gently, he wiped away my tears and asked more softly, "You can live a life with your perfect Viscomte. Why didn't you say yes?"

"Well, he is charming, I will give him that. He didn't, however, see the chorus girl during the rehearsals of Hannible. He only saw me when I was in the lead role. He is also musically inadequate!" Thought the last reason that I gave was meant to be slightly joking, I realized something. I wanted music to be a part of my life for the rest of my life, and the life of a Viscomtes would not be a musical one.

Erik looked startled. I guess he hadn't thought that every human has their flaws. Raoul was not a musician, and he never would be. I was occasionally childish and spiteful. Only occasionally… And Erik…He had a nasty temper.

"Look, Erik, I think that I need to get back. The show must go on, right?" With that, I turned around and walked to the staircase leading back to the stage. Before I headed down, I looked back to where Erik was standing. His golden eyes and my blue ones connected, and I felt my heart skip a beat. Then, before my eyes, Erik melted into the shadows.


	5. Christmas With the One You Love

**(A/N- This chapter is really a filler, because I needed another chapter. It has no significance in the rest of the chapter, except the end is important (sort of). So you have to read it. Maybe a tender moment at the end, who knows? I hope you like it…)**

**Christmas with the Ones You Love**

"Christine, wait up!" I spun around to see who had called my name. I saw Raoul walking quickly towards me, pushing ballet girls and chorus members out of his way. He must have really been in a hurry, or he wouldn't have been so pushy. Or maybe that's who he was now. Sometimes, people just change, and not always for the better.

I still hadn't worked up the courage to tell Raoul that I didn't want to marry him. Every time I tried, I remembered our childhood together, I remembered our innocent friendship, I remembered father… No! I needed to stop those types of thoughts, or else I would end up in an unhappy marriage with ten babies crying for me! I didn't want that, not now!

"…and I was wondering if you wanted an escort to the Masquerade this year." Huh? He must have been talking to me, because he was staring at me hopefully, waiting for my answer.

"Uh, yeah, sure," oh, that was smooth! Quick, better think of something better to say! "I mean, I would be thrilled to be accompanied to the Masquerade by you, Raoul."

"I shall see you anon, Little Lotte." Why did he insist on using my nickname? Because I neglected to correct him, that's why. Note to self: tell Raoul to stop calling me Little Lotte!

I spun around and headed to my room, which was where I had been going originally. It took me probably twice as long to get there, since everyone was rushing wildly about, trying to get the last things done before Christmas. I never really understood why everyone loved Christmas. True, when I had been younger, Christmas had been my absolute **favorite** day of the year. But I no longer went to Christmas parties, or sat around the hearth roasting chestnuts. I always spent Christmas alone in the opera house with no one to celebrate with.

When I finally got to my room, I was surprised to see that another person was already in the room, waiting for me. I quickly locked the door and turned to the person who was sitting on my bed, idly reading one of the books that I read. I blanched when I saw the title of the book. It was one of my romance novels, and it had some, uh, _explicit_ chapters. Erik seemed to be reading one of those chapters, for there was a furious blush on his cheek. If it hadn't been my book that he was reading, I would have found the situation rather funny.

"Hello, Erik," I said as calmly as I could. That isn't an easy task when someone is reading a practically pornographic book that you own. He looked up from the book, and in the depths of his golden eyes, I could see amusement and embarrassment. I swore I was going to burn that book the first chance that I got.

"Hello, Christine," he replied as he stood up to greet me. He was such a gentleman. We stood in awkward silence for a few moments, and I could see him shifting uneasily from foot to foot. He obviously wanted to ask me something.

"Erik, what is it? You look like you're about to explode." I said. I probably shouldn't have been so blunt, but there was absolutely no other way I was going to get any info out of him in any other way.

After a moments hesitation, he said rather nervously, "Well, I was wondering if, um, you wanted to spend your Christmas vacation with me?" He averted his eyes, as if waiting for me to say no. After about a second, he looked back at me, his beautiful amber eyes pleading. Who could resist that face, er, look? I know I couldn't!

"Of course, I would love to spend Christmas with you!" I exclaimed, spontaneously jumping on him and almost smothering him with a hug. He stiffened like a board under my touch, so I reluctantly backed off. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, it's just that, well, this will be the first Christmas I have actually celebrated in a while," I apologized.

"Well, shall we go?" he asked

"Now?"

"Well, you don't have any more rehearsals for the rest of the week, and it is, after all, Christmas Eve." he stated, afraid that I was going to change my mind.

"Sorry, I didn't realize that it was Christmas Eve. Of course, lets go! I can't wait!" I exclaimed. I was rather excited. I'm sure you can understand.

Erik walked over to the mirror and opened it, holding it open like any gentleman would hold a door for a lady. I couldn't suppress one delighted giggle, one that he definitely heard. Once we were both through the mirror, he closed it firmly behind us. He carefully led me through the long, dark tunnel. Although I was seriously afraid of the dark, I knew that Erik was right beside me. In fact, I was leaning rather heavily on him.

We got to the gondola and boarded. This time I tried not to trip. When we neared his house, Erik made a rather unusual request. "Close your eyes, please." I obeyed, wondering why he wanted me to close my eyes. I found out why I wasn't allowed to see when the gondola reached the shore of Erik's house. He, very gently, said, "you can open your eyes now."

I opened my eyes and let out a gasp of surprise. The darkness of Erik's home was illuminated by hundreds of candles. In the soft glow of the candlelight, I could see Christmas decorations hanging on the wall, sitting on tabletops, everywhere! There were boughs of holly, a bright green even in winter, hanging on some of the walls. Little cherubs sat on Erik's pipe organ. A fire crackled merrily in a fireplace. I didn't even know Erik had a fireplace! And in the middle of the beautiful decorations stood a tall evergreen tree. The only decoration on the tree was an angel at the very top. On closer inspection, I realized that the angel was carved to resemble me!

"Oh, my gosh, Erik! It's wonderful! I can't believe you did all this!" It dawned on me that Erik had done this all for me. This man was amazing! The wreaths, the cherubs, the tree, everything was for me! The lengths that he would go to just to make me feel happy. A warm, content feeling spread throughout my entire body. I was so shocked that someone would do this just for me!

Erik served a light, but incredibly delicious dinner of some exotic fish that I had never heard of. Whatever it was, it was amazing and fresh, and it tasted great. That's all I cared about. My goodness, Erik could even cook well!

After dinner we went to the study to read and relax. Erik was seated on a large, comfortable sofa, engrossed in a book about ancient Greece. I pretended to be reading a book by Victor Hugo but in reality I was using the time to study Erik. His golden eyes fervently perused the book, practically devouring it in one look. His eyes were so beautiful. They were the only part of him that betrayed his emotions. While he often pretended to be indifferent, his eyes would show his true anger, sorrow, or even, on occasions, joy.

His dark hair was straight and carefully combed. Not a single hair was out of place. I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers though his soft, black hair… No, different thoughts!

His mouth was perfect! His lips were a little large, but they looked soft and warm and utterly kissable… Ahhh! Could I never escape these thoughts?

While I was absently staring at Erik, he looked up. Both of our eyes met and held. For a few blissful seconds, I was oblivious to everything but his eyes. They seemed to hold more knowledge, more intelligence, more _emotion_, than I thought possible. Suddenly, I came crashing back down to Earth, and looked away shyly. My cheeks were probably a brighter shade of red than the holly berries on the wreaths!

I really did end up reading the book after that incident! Well, sort of. My mind was drifting… I was getting rather sleepy, and one look at the clock told me why. Holy cow, it was nearing midnight! I almost never stayed up this late!

I bid Erik good-night and walked into the room that I had stayed in during my last visit. Due to the circumstances of my last visit, I hadn't really observed what my room truly looked like. The furniture was intricately carved in the Oriental style out of expensive and exotic woods, and the artist who created the furniture paid an amazing amount of attention to the details. There were Chinese dragons and phoenixes, elegant people and flowers. There was a screen in the corner of the room, one of those screens that you change behind. I think it was more for decoration, for why would I need a screen if my room was private? It was also carved intricately, and since it had similar designs to the furniture, I was fairly sure that the same craftsman had created the screen as well. The walls of the room were painted a muted shade of red, soft and easy on the eyes. In the middle of the luxurious room was a large bed carved in the shape of a swan. It should have looked out of place, but surprisingly it fit in with the rest of the room perfectly. Covering the bed were soft, luxurious sheets of linen and silk in various shades of red. I was afraid that if I lay on them, they would wrinkle!

I slipped off my shoes with a sigh of relief. My bare feet sank deep into the thick Oriental rugs covering the room from wall to wall. I gave an involuntary shudder of delight. This room was probably nicer than any that you would find in a palace! I loved it! I quickly slipped out of my dress and stood in only my undergarments. Surely there were nightclothes somewhere in this room. I needed to look no further than two feet to my left, for, sure enough, there was a large walk-in closet filled with exquisite dresses, as well as a few simpler nightgowns. I couldn't even begin to imagine all of the trouble that Erik had been through to acquire everything I needed.

Once I was dressed in a light nightgown, I slid in between the soft covers and settled into the fluffy feathery goodness of the bed with a sigh. I fell asleep looking at a single crimson rose in a crystal vase on the dresser.

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I woke up the next day to the sound of music (as per usual). Once I was dressed in a simple, yet elegant blue dress, I walked out of my room and into the cluttered, and nicely decorated, I might add, music room. Erik stood in the middle of the room, his back towards me, playing the violin like a madman. A very talented madman. This time when I entered the room, he noticed me almost immediately and stopped playing. When he turned around to look at me, his jaw almost dropped to the floor. "Is something wrong?" I asked.

He quickly shut his mouth and said, "Nothing. You just look…nice." I liked having that affect on people. It was amusing. To change the subject, he asked me. "Are you hungry?" I nodded vigorously, not realizing until now how famished I was. He led me to the doorway, and then stopped abruptly and said formally, "After you, Mademoiselle."

"Why, thank you Erik." I responded, trying my best to step through the door gracefully and without incident. Being me, I was surprised that I didn't trip and fall through the door.

We ate a light breakfast of fresh fruits (yes, in the dead of winter. How did he do it?) and toast with jam. He offered to make tea, but when it came out it was an odd, strong type of tea that I didn't care for much. He noticed immediately and apologized, "I'm sorry, not everyone likes Russian tea. Would you like me to make you an English tea?" I declined the offer, not wanting to disturb Erik's meal. He was almost too accommodating, and I didn't want to be a burden.

I don't know how I got the idea, but it just suddenly popped into my head. "Why don't we go sing carols in the music room?" I asked, hoping he would say yes. I had missed out in that part of my life for the past few years, and I didn't want to miss out again.

He seemed excited, but his attitude declined rapidly in the space of two seconds. I asked him what was wrong, and he admitted quietly, "I don't know any carols."

I almost laughed, but decided not to. I didn't want to embarrass him. "I'll teach you." I offered.

"You don't have to," he said, only a hint of hope showing in his voice.

"Of course I do. After all, you taught me, now it's my turn to be _your_ teacher." I said jokingly.

So as soon as breakfast was over, we both cleared the plates and went into music room. "Okay, this one is called 'Deck the Halls,'" I said enthusiastically. So, basically we spent a good part of the day singing Christmas carols. I don't think that I had ever laughed so much in my life! We were having so much fun that we didn't even notice that we missed dinner (A/N- dinner then is lunch today!) So, needless to say, we were both famished by the time supper came along. Walking out of the music room, Erik refused to walk out right behind me again. He was avoiding me like the plague by that door!

I guess that Erik had put a goose into the oven before I even woke up, because for our Christmas dinner we had slowly roasted goose and various vegetables. It was absolutely succulent! My mouth was watering before I even took a bite, and by the time we had finished the torte dessert, I felt that I might have needed to loosen my corset.

After dinner, Erik went into his room to "get something." I took the time to go back into the music room and see what was so special about that door. I had my suspicions, of course. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw a little mistletoe hanging above the door. Hmm, I had an evil plan! Ha-ha, I was going to get Erik good!

Erik came back out of his room carrying a small wrapped present. "Erik, oh my gosh, you really didn't need to get me anything else!" I exclaimed. He had already done so much for me, and I didn't even get him a gift in return.

"It doesn't matter. I would like you to have it anyways." Of course, I wasn't going to say no to a gift. Go ahead, call me greedy, but I will never turn down a gift! I tore off the paper and opened the box. I gasped in shock when I saw a _beautiful_ necklace. The chain was gold, and probably cost more than anything that I owned by itself. The pendant on it, however, was amazing. It was a crystal rose, and there was crimson dye in the glass. It was carved down to the most minute detail, and was probably more perfect than anything I had ever seen. I suddenly knew the perfect gift to give Erik.

Taking Erik by the hand, I led him to the doorway. My heart was beating a million miles a minute, and I could feel Erik's pulse quicken. When we reached the doorway, Erik tried to ask me what I was doing, but was quickly silenced when I placed a kiss on his lips. Oh, my God! I felt like I had died and gone to heaven! I lost myself completely in his warm, soft lips. Amazing!

Erik tried to pull away out of shyness and inexperience, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him back to me. After the initial shock wore off of him, his lips melted into mine as he kissed me back, and I reached a whole other level of bliss. I slowly reached up to remove his mask, but he stiffened like a board.

"Erik, it is okay." I said, trying to sound reassuring. After all, that damned mask was getting in the way of my make-out session! Once I had the mask removed I gently caressed his "disfigured" cheek. Honestly, it wasn't too bad.

"How can you stand to look at me, let alone touch me?" he asked pitifully. Poor guy, what it must feel like to believe you are hideous.

"Your face is not bad. I know you don't believe me when I say that, but it's true. My theory is that, when God created you," he snorted at my mention of God, "he realized too late that he had created the perfect man. Since he couldn't bear to take away from your personality, he gave you one flaw. That single flaw, should I even call it a flaw, is on your cheek. You are otherwise perfect." I lay a hand meaningfully over his heart and said, "Your soul is perfect." I then proceeded to crush my lips against his passionately.

I don't know how long we kissed each other, but eventually we came apart. As much as I would have liked it, we couldn't kiss each other forever.

I retired to my room soon afterward, still reeling from the kiss. I fell asleep with a smile on my lips.

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The next day Erik and I decided to just relax. We roasted chestnuts over the fireplace in his home, and suddenly I got an idea. "Erik, could you take me to my dressing room really quickly? I need to get something." He took me up, and when we got back to Erik's home I threw the romance novel into the fire. Those chestnuts tasted especially good.


	6. Why So Silent?

**A boring chapter, but one that is important to the rest of the story. I apologize.**

**Why So Silent? **

"Christine, I was looking all over for you!" I heard Meg say breathlessly as she ran up to my side. I just smiled at my old friend. It was the day before the Masquerade Ball, and I was leaving the Opera Populaire in search of a dress for the ball.  
"So, where were you during Christmas? I didn't see you anywhere!" she inquired, looking a little concerned. I knew that she would ask the question, but I had hoped desperately that she wouldn't.  
"I was visiting with a friend," I replied evasively. I saw a flicker of understanding in her eye, but I knew she assumed wrong. She thought I had been with the Viscomte, which was inaccurate, but the excuse was convenient, so I decided not to correct her.  
"Where are you going?" Meg asked. She was always so curious; that was her only flaw.  
"I am going to shop for a dress for the Masquerade." I replied, a little embarrassed that I hadn't been shopping earlier.

"But I thought you had one already!" she exclaimed. What? Where had she gotten that idea?  
"No, I don't." I said.

"But I saw it! It was in your room!" she told me. She must have thought me crazy! Well, that made two of us. Of course I didn't have a dress…

"No, I never got a dress." I said. At the look of utter confusion on her face, I added quickly, "But we can always check my room." With that, the both of us sped on down to my dressing room, practically running. Was it possible that Meg hadn't been hallucinating?

We arrived at the door, and I turned the knob. To my disappointment, there wasn't a dress on the bed. I had kinda hoped that someone would do my shopping for me. I heard Meg's groan of embarrassment, and I could sympathize with her entirely. I had made a fool of myself before, and I knew how it felt.

I started to turn around and head back out the door, when I saw a crimson rose on my dresser. Enchanted, I walked over to pick it up. Only Erik leaves roses. Raoul tends to leave tulips, thinking that they are my favorite type of flower. Of course they aren't. I think that nothing is more simple and beautiful than a blood-red rose.

Next to the rose was a note. The scripture was slightly childish and was written in an ink to match the rose. It simply said, "Go to your closet." Of course, I went to my closet. Meg was staring at me like I was insane. She must have thought me a schizophrenic. Ah, well. I am so misunderstood. Oh, woe is me.

I reached the closet and pulled it open, and almost fell over is shock. There, in my closet, was the most elegant, the most gorgeous, the most sensational dress I had ever seen in my life! It was a crimson gown that matched the rose necklace that Erik got me. Oh, God, would that man ever stop showering me with expensive gifts? The dress was tightly fitted at the top, and it had an intricate rose design. The bodice was cut low, lower than anything I had ever worn, but it was still decent. The bottom was long and flowing, and literally seemed to be made of liquid. When I reached out and touched the dress, I discovered that the bottom was made of silk! Holy shit! This was probably the most expensive dress I had ever seen, and I had often walked down the upscale shopping district in Paris.

Meg tapped me on the shoulder and said smugly, "I told you so!"

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Raoul held my hand in his gloved palm. We stepped into the brightly lit foyer and stood at the top of the grand marble staircase. I barely heard when someone announced our names, for there was a string quartet playing and many people gossiping. Honestly, I didn't enjoy the din of the Masquerade party. I could tell that the noise went down a few decibel levels when I entered the room, but it was still overwhelmingly loud!

Raoul and I enjoyed a few waltzes, and even though we were close together, we could not have been more distant. He had been so domineering, so arrogant when he picked me up to go to the ball. He had also been an utter bore! I was just glad that I wouldn't need to share the rest of my life with him. That is, I wouldn't if I could summon the courage to reject his offer.

The opportune moment came when there was a lull in the music. The quartet had gone to enjoy the refreshments offered, so many people were using the break to chat idly. No one would notice the quick disappearance of the Viscomte and the star soprano.

When one of Raoul's friends left to go gossip with another random nobleman, I managed to drag Raoul away from the ball and into a secluded area in a different room. I sat down rather heavily in a plush armchair and gestured for Raoul to do the same. I didn't want my knees to weaken and give out when I broke the news. Okay, deep breath. This was the moment I'd been waiting for.

"Raoul, I need to tell you something," I started, shakily. He just looked at me questioningly, so I continued. "L-look, Raoul, I don't r-really know how to p-put this." I managed to stutter. So this was how it felt to reject someone. Well, I hoped that I would never have to do it again. "Raoul, I don't love you." I said bluntly. I could not meet his eyes, afraid of what they might hold. To emphasize my decision, I slowly slid the gaudy diamond ring that Raoul had given me off of my finger and placed it in his hand.

When I finally looked at him, all I saw was regret. He wasn't sad because I turned him down, he was only upset that he could not have his trophy. Me. Apparently, I hadn't meant as much to him as I should have. I guess all he ever saw me as was a prize to be won, and not a person to love. Not like Erik… No! Now was _not _the time to be thinking about Erik!

Without another word, I got up and left the room as quickly as my feet would carry me. I didn't look back, but I could hear one muffled sob before I left. A sudden, symbolic realization dawned on me. I had successfully let go of my final link to my past. I was no longer a slave of my history, as I now also realized that the future was far from set in stone. Maybe life didn't have to be a tragedy, at least not for two people in this world…

I reached the grand foyer once more and joined the Giry party without explaining anything that had occurred between Raoul and me. Somehow, Madame Giry seemed to know what had happened. I knew I shouldn't have been surprised, but still!

The lights dimmed for no apparent reason, and the room was filled with absolute darkness for a few moments. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a light shone on a new figure standing at the top of the marble staircase. He was clad in all red, and wore a skull mask. A rapier sat in the palm of his hand. It was Erik, and, might I add, he looked smashing in red!

Erik walked slowly, dramatically, down the staircase. You know, if it hadn't been for his face and the past he had endured, he could have been a marvelous actor! _Why so silent, good messieurs? _Erik was now addressing the idiots that we called managers. Really, those two had absolutely no common sense! Erik was basically just badmouthing them and a few of our actors. It was nothing they didn't deserve, however.

Then Erik fixed his gaze on me, and I involuntarily shuddered. His eyes burned with fury, and I hadn't even done anything! What had I done wrong?

Without warning, Erik seemingly disappeared. I knew he had gone through a trapdoor, but the disappearing act was still rather impressive. The rest of the ball was tense, and conversation was strained. Everyone was afraid that they would be prey to the Phantom if they did anything wrong. Oh, how little they knew of the man they called the Opera Ghost!

The Masquerade ended, and I went back to my dressing room. I looked straight at the mirror and said, "Alright, Erik. Come on out." The mirror swung open, and Erik, still dressed in his costume, stepped regally into my room. I could tell that he was furious, as he made no effort to hide it. "Erik, why are you so mad?" I asked. I didn't intend for it to come out so childish.

"Why were you with the Viscomte?" he asked, his words dripping with venom. Oh, shoot! I had forgotten to inform Erik that Raoul would escort me to the ball. I also failed to mention that I had declined Raoul's proposal.

"Raoul asked me to go to the Masquerade before Christmas. I, of course, agreed, since Raoul had proposed to me. I wish you wouldn't jump to conclusions, however." I said, seeing the anger ignite in his eyes all over. "I told Raoul at the ball that I would not marry him. I think that it is safe to say that he will no longer be courting me. I don't think he ever properly courted me in the first place!" I could see a look of relief cross Erik's face, and then I could see regret. Oh, what a fool he had made of himself. Ah, well, I couldn't help it if I was best friends with a man who occasionally made a fool of himself.

"Erik, I do wish that you would trust me, though." I said sadly. I couldn't expect complete trust from him, as he was sure to be slightly paranoid with the life he had led. Without explanation, for I didn't need any, I kissed him softly on the cheek. This time, when I kissed him, he did not shrink away. Instead he embraced me and held me tightly, lovingly, for a very long time.

When I stifled a yawn, Erik said, "You need your sleep. I shall see you tomorrow." With that, he left.


	7. Wandering Child

**I don't know when Christine's father died, but I am going to say it was in the winter just for the sake of convenience. Also, I think you will enjoy Stalker Raoul. He creeps me out… Anyways, sorry if I don't have all the facts right, but I hope that I'm pretty much accurate. Anyways, I hope you like this chapter!**

**Wandering Child**

_It was the anniversary of my father's death. He had died exactly seven years ago. To honor him, I went to the graveyard where he was buried. It was raining hard, but that didn't stop me. Dressed in a black blouse and a black pair of pants, which contrasted to my ghost-white skin, I looked like death itself. I carried with me two roses, one crimson and the other white. I placed the pure, white rose on my mother's grave, and I placed the blood-red one on my father's. My salty tears mixed with the bone-chilling rain. Why couldn't it just snow? I saw a fork of lightning touch earth, not too far away from where I stood. I silently prayed to God that another bolt would strike me down, erase me from existence. I pointlessly wiped my face off with my sleeve, and the sleeve rode up on my arm. I quickly pulled the sleeve back down, out of instinct. Even though there was no one around, I didn't want God to see the scars criss-crossing my arms._

I slowly roused myself from sleep. I could feel a few tears make their way down my cheeks. It was the anniversary of my father's death as well. Quickly I threw on a black mourning gown and went downstairs. Hopefully a cab would be waiting for me like I had requested.

I was surprised to find that it wasn't even light out yet. I had probably only slept for a total of five hours, but I felt as though I had slept for an eternity. The memories of last night cruelly swamped my brain, even though I was only on autopilot. My brain never has and never will function at five o'clock in the morning. I remembered my rejection of Raoul's proposal, and the accusations of Erik, and the party. And how could I forget about the dress? That had been the highlight of my day! How sad… No, wait, getting a new dress would be the highlight of any woman's day, at least when they don't go to a party. Then, the party should be the highlight of the day. My brain needed to stop babbling. I was giving myself a headache.

I went down to the stables, and, sure enough, there was a carriage waiting for me. I told the driver, a wizened old man with a silvery beard who was missing half his teeth (A/N- Mere, its my grandpa!) , where my destination was. Then I went to retrieve a cloak and a bouquet of red roses from the cloakroom. When I got back, the driver was in the front seat of the cab. Hmm, strange, the person driving the cab was definitely a different person. Ah, well. I just never knew that Erik could drive a carriage.

When we were on our way, I finally spoke. "I didn't know you got up so early, Erik," I said wearily. Yep, it was _definitely_ too early in the morning! For some odd reason, he seemed shocked that I recognized him. Like it was that hard!

"How did you know it was me?" he questioned, mocking hurt in his voice. I guess he liked the idea that he could go wherever he pleased without being discovered.

"Well, let's see. First of all, you are _very_ tall. Also, you move more gracefully than most men do. And third, you aren't sixty years old and you don't have a white beard. Oh, and you have all of your teeth. I think." I replied jokingly.

He recovered from his shock (why should he be shocked?) smoothly (sort of) and asked me, "Did you sleep well, Christine?"

"Yes, for the grand total of five hours that I was actually asleep. And you?" I questioned.

"Uh, no… not really," he responded looking away from me and paying far too much attention to the road in front of us. He seemed to be studying it, probably only so I couldn't see the expression in his eyes. Hmm.

"Um, Erik, can you pull over when we get out of Paris?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to sit next to you," I whined in a childish voice that I had perfected over the years. Erik chuckled, the slight awkwardness of before gone, and clucked to the horses. I was thrown back in my seat as the large black horses pulling the carriage leapt into a gallop. I could feel tears streaming out of my eyes because of the bitter, freezing wind. We were probably going at a faster pace than I had ever traveled in my life! It was exhilarating! I let out a whoop of excitement, and Erik looked back to me, smiling broadly. This was fun! I needed to take up horseback riding!

All too soon we were in the rural countryside of France. I exited the carriage and hopped onto the driver's seat. It really wasn't so much a seat as it was a plank of wood. A small plank of wood at that. A really small plank of wood. I. Was. Squashed. Ah, well, at least I was scrunched against Erik, and not a grubby old man with knobby teeth.

Once we were on our way again, I asked Erik innocently (I think…) "Why couldn't you sleep last night?" After all, if he was sick or something I wanted to know about it!

Erik coughed uncomfortably, and then replied, "I'm an, uh, insomniac." Hmm, why was that? But wait! He had more to say! "I always have been ever since- Oh, look! We're here!" He exclaimed cheerily, quickly changing the subject. Damn. He suddenly remembered that the whole point of my early morning excursion was to visit my father's grave, so he quickly sobered up and drabbed down. Ah, well, time to put my gloomy face on.

I walked slowly up the flagstone path towards my father's grave. Erik went to turn the carriage around for when I decided to leave, so I was all alone. All alone, with only dead bodies to keep me company in the dark. I had always been afraid of the dark, not so much because I despised darkness itself, but rather what horrors lay unseen. A tear- from sorrow or from fear, I could not tell- fell down my cheek and hit the frozen ground, where it crystallized immediately into ice. My breath steamed in the cold air, and I could see the first rays of sunlight peek out over the horizon line. I thanked whatever listening deity for that little bit of light.

I finally reached my father's grave, to find that I was no longer alone. The muffled sound of footsteps on snow met my ears, and I turned around to see Erik walking up behind me. When he stood right beside me, I firmly grasped his hand in my shaking palm. I had never been calm when I visited a graveyard while it was still dark. Looking up into his deep golden eyes, I felt so…right. Nothing could scare me, not when my angel of light was protecting me.

I leaned into Erik's body for both warmth and protection, and then returned my gaze to my father's grave. I could have sworn that I saw a flicker of movement in the shadows, but I didn't pay it any heed as it was probably just a leaf…

"I miss my father," I replied quietly.

"I never knew my father," Erik muttered, almost inaudibly. That startled me. I turned around and looked into Erik's eyes, and I could tell he was about ready to open up and tell me of his life. I already knew most everything from my dreams, etc, but Erik needed to get some things off his chest. Since I figured that his story would be long, I sat down on the stone steps, dragging Erik down with me. There was no one around, so I took off Erik's mask and stroked his cheek gently. Erik closed his eyes and let his cheek be caressed by both the wind and my fingers. How long had it been since he had last felt the wind on his face?

"From the moment I was born, I was a curse. My mother hated me, an I could not go out in public. I didn't understand why I had to be different. After all, I could always see other children out in the streets playing, but I could never join them. Then, on my birthday, I asked for one simple thing from my mother. I only wanted one thing. Do you know what it was?" he asked. I shook my head, staring intently at his face. "I wanted a kiss. Just. One. Kiss. And, of course, even my own mother wouldn't give it to me!"

I was crying more than I had in a very long time. The last time I had cried so hard had been when my father died, years ago. Erik seemed unable to continue, as he was choking on tearless sobs.

There was something I needed to do. I said, "I will give you what your mother would not." With that, I kissed him. What did you expect me to do? Just leave him hanging? I think not! All the other kisses up to this point seemed meaningless in comparison to this one. I knew the second my lips touched his that I would go through the hottest fires of Hell and back just for Erik.

Remember that movement that I had cast aside as insignificant? Turns out, it wasn't a leaf. Figures. Before I knew what was happening, I heard a furious scream and an arm wrap around my waist. I was being dragged away from where Erik lay, dazed. My captor must have hit him on the head. Hard. Damn him.

I turned my face to see none other than Raoul pulling me away from Erik. "Raoul, what the Hell are you doing?" I screamed furiously. To Hell with proper, polite conversations!

"I'm saving you from that monster!" he replied vehemently. I had no time to reprimand him as I was thrown forcefully onto the back of a horse. Raoul jumped up in front of me, and I was forced to wrap my arms around his waist lest I fall off when the horse bolted. I looked back to see that Erik had recovered and replaced his mask. He was running full sprint towards us, and, though he was quite quick, a horse can gallop much faster than a man. I mouthed the words "don't worry" to Erik and focused my mind on thinking up a plan. I got it!

When we were galloping on a narrow path through the woods, I subtly changed my position. I saw my cue. A large log in the middle of the path. We would need to jump over it. As soon as the horse left the ground, I pushed Raoul to the side. Since he had been rather relaxed, certain that I wouldn't fight, the sudden change of balance threw him off the horse. I took a certain satisfaction in knowing that Raoul hit his head on the log. Ha! Serves you right!

Now I faced another dilemma. I didn't know how to horseback ride! Well, it couldn't be too hard… Ow! I didn't know that riding on horses was so bouncy… Forget what is said earlier about wanting to take up horseback riding!

I finally found my balance and pulled on the right rein to turn us around. I had seen Raoul steer the horse, it couldn't be too hard. I only had a little trouble keeping my balance with the sudden change of direction.

My curly brown hair had, by now, fallen out of its pins, so it was streaming out behind me. I just hoped than no respectable person saw my hair in such an indecent state! Ah, well, I had more important things to worry about.

We, that is the horse and I, finally reached the cemetery. The horse was blowing hard, and both the horse and I were streaked with sweat. I saw Erik and hopped ungracefully off of the horse. I stumbled and would have fallen if Erik hadn't rushed to my side and caught me in his arms. Surprisingly, both of us started laughing, for no apparent reason. I guess that my excuse was that I was high on adrenalin, and Erik was allowed to be a little loopy as he had been bashed upside the head.

"My hair fell out," I commented stupidly, stating the obvious. I started giggling harder. Is this what adrenaline did? It was like a drug! Not that I've taken drugs…

"You're hair looks gorgeous just the way it is," he commented, suddenly serious. I saw, in his deep gold eyes, a look of gratitude, as well as one that I was becoming more familiar with. I could almost identify what it was…

"You flatter me, kind sir," I said, curtsying as graceful as I could (which wasn't very graceful and elegant at all…) The I flung my arms around Erik's neck, giggling even more uncontrollably. Poor guy, he was in the company of a crazy little girl.

**Tee-hee! That was fun! Sorry if you didn't like it, but I had fun writing it!**


	8. The Truth

**.I edited one of my chapters b/c I didn't want Christine admitting love so soon. So, just pretend that she never said she was in love. That happens in this chapter. This is kind of a filler chappie, but not to worry! It might still hold your attention! Hopefully… Anyways, do not forget to review since you all love me so much!**

**The Truth**

I sat in my dressing room, reading a less explicit novel, when who should burst through the door than Meg Giry. "So, tell me. Is it true?" she asked, gasping for breath. She seemed to have run the entire length of the opera house just to find me. Poor dear. She needed look no more than two doors away from her own dressing room.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you are talking about, Meg," I replied honestly, as well as rather bluntly. After all, she hadn't been really specific in her questioning.

Meg groaned, paused to catch her breath, and then continued. "Did you really turn down the Viscomte's marriage proposal?" Her eyes gleamed the way they always did when she was hearing a particularly juicy piece of gossip. Funny, that even seemed so long ago (a/n- a whole two chappies…) and yet it had only happened last night. Meg seemed to want the whole story from my own lips, however, and not those of a ballet rat who was notorious for exaggerating the truth coughMegcough. Well, I wouldn't deny her the entertainment.

"Yes, I turned him down," I answered simply.

"Why?" she asked, incredulously. "He is so rich, and charming, and handsome…" I saw her eyes glaze over and sighed exasperatedly to myself. She must have thought I had sighed because I was mentally berating myself for turning down such a "wonderful" opportunity.

Just because I loved Meg so much, I muttered only loud enough so she could hear, "and he is a pretty sneaky stalker as well." That certainly got Meg's attention, and her eyes snapped back into focus immediately, the gossip-hungry glimmer back in place.

"What?" she asked. Well, I deserved it. I wanted to warn her away from creepy noblemen, so I guess I needed to explain why they were so, well, creepy.

"Raoul followed me to the cemetery this morning when I went to visit my father's grave." I stated. I felt a little smug when a look of horror and disgust crossed Meg's face. Don Christine Triumphant! So what if a Don is a male title…Okay! Scratch that one. Queen Christine Triumphs! Perfect.

"Alright…that's really creepy…" she said, more to herself than to me. With that, she left my room, making a mental list (out loud) never to marry a stalker or a nobleman. Well, at least Madame Giry wouldn't have to beat away eager suitors of the noble class with her cane, as Meg would probably never show an interest in them.

Just when I was finally getting back into my book, my door slammed open. I mean, it literally _slammed_ open! An old portrait of my deceased mother fell off of the wall from the impact, the frame shattering into thousands of tiny shards of glass and porcelain. Raoul stood in the doorway, along with the two managers, Andre and Firmin. Raoul, I was pleased to note, sported a large gash on the side of his head. The managers just looked distressed.

"Christine, we have a plan to capture the monster-" I tensed immediately at the word, "-that lives in this opera house. Now, here is the plan." Raoul then proceeded to go into a lengthy and, might I say, pointless plan to ensnare one of my only true friends. The basic jist of the plan was that I would sing on stage, lure Erik to the performance, where he would be riddled with hundreds of bullets from the police that would be hiding in the audience. I must say, I did not like the plan one bit, for more than one reason.

"Look, messieurs, I do not think that I want to go along with the plan." I must say, I think I did a pretty good job of acting the frightened and weak ingénue.

"But, surely you would want to be rid of him after what he did to your fiancé!" the managers protested. Fiancé? I wasn't getting married… One look at Raoul supplied all of the answers to the questions swarming in my brain. Raoul had told the managers that I would get married to him! No doubt he placed the blame for his cut on Erik's shoulders. God knows what twisted story he had told the managers to get them to go along with his plan!

"Fiancé?" I asked aloud, outraged.

Raoul quickly and discreetly put a hand over my mouth, making it look like he was comforting me rather than silencing me. Ooh, that clever bastard! "Forgive me, messieurs, she is clearly distraught. When that _thing_ kidnapped her this morning, she was quite clearly traumatized by the whole ordeal. She must have forgotten about last night." he quickly replied to their unasked question. I wanted to bite his hand, but instead smiled an overly fake smile and vowed that Raoul would pay dearly soon enough.

"Oh, fine. I will aide in the capture of this _monster_," I said, and by monster I meant Raoul. I would aide Erik in the capture of the monster, plain and simple. Three cheers for revenge! With my "word," the three men left.

As soon as the door was shut, I lunged to the door and locked it. I didn't want any more surprises. Then, I felt for the switch that would open the mirror. Once I was on my way down the dark passage, I mulled over what I would say to Erik. I doubted that "Hey, the managers and a madman have recruited me and said I had to capture you" would go over well. Well, I needed to think of a way to present the problem at hand to Erik. Unbidden, my thoughts strayed from the task at hand and to the corner of my mind that holds my deepest, darkest secrets. Sometimes, I even keep secrets from myself.

So, the question that I asked myself was simple, or so it seemed. Why did I want to warn Erik? Well, my immediate response was that he was a good friend of mine. He was always there when I needed him, and he always made me feel special and loved…

Love, what an odd thing it was. I have only loved one other on this earth: my father. Naturally, my feelings toward Erik were not of that nature… After all, I didn't see him as a father figure, or even a family member.

It was true, I was slightly, well, okay, _extremely_ attracted to Erik physically. But who isn't? I knew that I felt lust towards him. Even my "innocent," seventeen year old mind could comprehend that. After all, he was well built, tall, dark, mysterious, and handsome in his own way. But, I knew that I felt much more than lust towards him. He was probably my best friend, as I could tell him things that I couldn't even tell Meg. He was a teacher, a mentor, a composer, a genius…

I looked into the lake and saw my reflection. I looked straight into my eyes and saw the same look as the confusing one that Erik always gave me. I could now place that feeling, that emotion. It was, dare I say it, _love_. A different type than the love I had felt for my father, but love none the less. I loved Erik!

I would have jumped for joy and screamed my head off, but Erik was poling the gondola to where I was standing on the bank. I got on without a word, and sat in front of my Erik. My love.

"You look particularly happy today, my dear," Erik said amiably. I felt happy, I know that. Then my mood darkened considerably. I remembered why I had come down here in the first place. I needed to warn Erik about the ridiculous plan that the psycho Raoul had concocted.

"What is wrong?" Erik asked, worried.

"Erik, there's something I need to tell you…" I responded.

**A/N- I'm really happy because I just got my novel of Susan Kay's Phantom! Anyways, please don't forget to review.**


	9. Liposuction

**A/N- I'm sorry, but I needed another filler chappie… please don't forget to review since you all worship me so much!**

**Liposuction**

"Erik, Raoul wants to kill you!" I exclaimed rather bluntly. Well, I wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush and I wanted to be sure that Erik would heed my warning. To my surprise, Erik's facial expression did not change in the slightest.

"My dear, most everyone that I meet wants me dead," Erik responded, chuckling. I just sat there, mouth agape. Perhaps I should rephrase my statement. Let's try again.

"Erik, Raoul came into my room with the managers. All three of them want me to perform your opera, Don Juan. They say that if I perform, you are certain to attend. Then, while you sit in Box Five, they will have hidden policemen use you as target practice!" I nearly shouted the whole ridiculous plan into his ears, even though he was only two feet away from me. The poor guy must hear a ringing in his ears.

"Two things are wrong with their plan, my dear," he said, as jovial as before. "Number one: they have not, in all the years I have resided in this opera house, spotted me when I sat in Box Five. Unless, of course, I made myself visible to frighten ballet rats. Number two: I do not plan on being in Box Five. I will attend, but not from my usual seat." he concluded.

"Oh," I breathed simply. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about Erik's safety. If he didn't want to be caught, then no one alive would be able to catch him.

"Well, shall we begin our lesson, Christine?" Erik asked.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_"Passarino, go away for the trap is set and waits for its prey."_ Ugh, Piangi is singing again. Damn. It was the last day before the performance of Don Juan, and Piangi was still having difficulty hitting the right notes. He preferred to beat them to a bloody pulp. I just wanted to stuff wads of cotton in my ears, for his voice was almost as bad as Carlotta's.

You know, "Dream Christine's" world has this procedure called "liposuction." Maybe I should recommend it to Piangi. Then again, he would probably have a seizure at the mention of "liposuction." Big words confuse him.

So, I was to play the lead with the rotund Piangi. He was Don Juan, and I was Amnita. Although I was to be his passionate lover, with every calorie he consumed it became increasingly difficult for me to be passionate about him. I mean, come on!

Thank God rehearsals were over. I was getting tired of listening to Piangi's voice, as there was a striking similarity between his voice and the mournful trumpet of a dying elephant. Not that I've ever heard a dying elephant…

I went back to my room immediately and collapsed onto the bed, too exhausted to even bother getting dinner or changing out of my practice outfit. I was instantly asleep.

_I was walking over to my friend's house. It was a gorgeous night, not a cloud in the sky. There was a light breeze in the spring air, and I twirled around once with my arms out. Of course, the ribbon in my hair flew away._

_I ran to go get it. It lay in the middle of an empty street. Of course I was going to get it! There were no cars around! As I crossed the street, however, a truck came careening down the street, seemingly from nowhere. It was obvious that the driver was drunk, for the car was going way over the speed limit and weaving across the road wildly. It was impossible for me to get off of the road in time. I just prayed to God that the driver would see me. God did not listen. Everything went cold and black._

Whoa! Dream Christine died! I looked at the clock on the wall. 2:38 A.M. So, Dream Christine died on the day that I would be performing Don Juan. I wondered if that was significant in any way, other than the fact that my alter ego was officially dead. I had an ominous feeling of dread, for I knew that tonight's performance would be disastrous. I just prayed that no one would be killed in the performance of Don Juan.

Although it was extremely early in the morning, I would not be able to fall back asleep. So, I decided to go pay Erik a visit. After all, it must get lonely five stories under ground…

Erik wasn't in the music room when I entered his home. Of course, he has to sleep occasionally. Considering that it was the dead of night, I was willing to bet my blanket (a/n- Mere, Sharon, remember English class?) that he was asleep. Of course I was right.  
Erik lay in his coffin in the middle of his dark room. In sleep he looked so…peaceful. Like he was still a child of only nine years old. I stepped over to stand next to the coffin, and Erik's eyes flew open. When he saw that it was me who had disturbed his sleep, he relaxed and stood up.

"Why do you sleep in a coffin?" I inquired. He made no response.

Instead, he asked me, "What brings you down here so early in the morning?"

I knew I sounded childish when I said, "I couldn't sleep." Erik just chuckled lightly at my infantile response. He then led me to the room I had stayed in during my last visit. I lay down in bed, miraculously feeling slightly sleepy. Erik turned to go, but I caught his arm. I needed say no words, for all he had to do was look into my eyes to see what I wanted. He then lay down beside me on the bed. I curled up next to him and, without a second thought, rested my head on his chest. I fell asleep to the steady rhythm of Erik's breathing.

**Sorry it was so short, but I was writing this at ten o'clock at night. Forgive me.**


	10. No Return

**This is it! The chappie you've all been waiting for! DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT!**

**A message to my sponsors (IndiaPyro)- I mentioned in an earlier chappie that every night Christine dreams of what "Dream Christine" did during that day. That means that she would even remember Dream Christine doing math homework. She talks and thinks in modern tongue because she really is a modern human, and she isn't really of the year 1871. Also, in Susan Kay's novel Erik sleeps in a coffin. And yes, I _loathe_ Raoul with a fiery passion that burns hotter than seven suns!**

**No Return**

"Christine, there are five minutes until the curtains rise!" exclaimed an excited Meg. She stood in the doorway of my dressing room, her face flushed from running. According to her logic (which has always been a little off…) "Why walk when you can run?"

I added the last bit of make-up to my face and ran down the hallway with Meg, barely making it to my spot before the play started. Meg went onstage before me, and I could see her twirling form "seducing" the actors in the "brothel."

Before I knew it, it was time for me to go onstage. "_No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!"_ I sang. Then I sat down on stage and waited. I swear, the audience could hear my heart pounding. I think that about thirty, no wait, make that thirty-four butterflies were attacking the lining of my stomach. Ugh, I felt like I had just gotten off of a roller coaster! Not that I've ever been on one…

Don Juan entered the stage. He seemed to have taken my advice and gotten liposuction. He also seemed to have had a major growth spurt. Hmm, I thought he was past adolescence…This reminded me of the time Erik hijacked the carriage. Of course I could tell it was him driving then, so why shouldn't I recognize him now?

And then he sang.

_Passarino - go away!  
For the trap is set and waits for its prey . . ._

_You have come here  
__in pursuit of your deepest urge,  
in pursuit of that wish,  
which till now has been silent,  
silent . . ._

Swoon. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven

_I have brought you,  
that our passions may fuse and merge -  
in your mind you've already succumbed to me  
dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me –_(a/n- new lyrics: dropped your knickers, completely succumbed to me)_  
now you are here with me:  
no second thoughts,  
you've decided, decided . . ._

Oh, yes I have. I have decided to marry you and kill Monsieur le Fophead.

_Past the point of no return -  
no backward glances:  
the games we've played till now are at an end . . ._

Is it possible to have an orgasm when listening to a man sing? Because I think I just had one…

Past all thought of "if" or "when" -  
no use resisting:  
abandon thought, and let the dream descend . . .

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?  
What rich desire unlocks its door?  
What sweet seduction lies before us . . .?_

Mmm, his voice is better than chocolate!

_Past the point of no return,  
the final threshold -  
what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?  
Beyond the point of no return . . ._

Okay, Christine, now get a grip and blow Erik's socks off!

_You have brought me  
to that moment where words run dry,  
to that moment where speech disappears  
into silence, silence . . ._

That's right. There are no words to describe this.

_I have come here,  
hardly knowing the reason why . . .  
In my mind,  
__I've already imagined our bodies entwining  
__defenseless and silent –_

All the men in the audience were paying _very_ close attention to the lyrics…

and now I am here with you:  
no second thoughts,  
_I've decided, decided . . ._

Oh, Erik, you have no idea.

_Past the point of no return -  
no going back now:  
our passion-play has now, at last, begun . . .  
Past all thought of right or wrong -  
one final question:  
how long should we two wait, before we're one . . .?_

_When will the blood begin to race  
the sleeping bud burst into bloom?  
When will the flames, at last, consume us . . .?_

Oh, sweet bliss! Erik and I were standing, facing each other. We quickly closed the gap.

_Past the point of no return  
the final threshold -  
the bridge is crossed, so stand  
and watch it burn . . ._

I was leaning back into Erik's strong chest. I felt so safe, so right in his embrace! 

We've passed the point of no return . . .

I looked to where Raoul sat in Box Five. I noted, smugly, that he looked furious that someone dare caress me. I'm willing to bet that it practically looked like Erik and I had had sex on the stage! Well, it had the same effect on me. His touch sent fire through my veins!

_Say you'll share with  
me one love, one lifetime . . ._

Of course I will! I love you…I looked back into the audience and saw, to my horror, that the policemen's guns were all pointed at Erik! They intended to shoot him while he was still on stage! Shit!

Lead me, save me from my solitude . . .

There wasn't much time! I'll do that later!

_Say you want me with you,  
here beside you . . .  
_  
I knew what I had to do.

_Anywhere you go let me go too -  
Christine, that's all I ask of . . ._

Before Erik could finish, I jumped on him as a shot rang through the auditorium. We both landed in a tangled mess of limbs on the floor, me straddling Erik with my dress hiked up past my knees. If it didn't look like we had been having sex before, it certainly did now. I looked up and saw a bullet hole in the wood right by where Erik's head had been! That was too close!

I could hear the sound of ladies fainting in the arms of their husbands. I wonder why that is? Then, to my _further_ horror I saw Erik's mask was on the floor below us. His mask had fallen off when I knocked him down! Oh, get a grip you blue-blooded bitches! It isn't that bad!

I think that the incident with Erik's mask gave us an opportune moment to get off stage, as the policemen were temporarily in a state of shock along with the rest of the audience.

I untied one of the ropes that held the ballast for the sets. I then grabbed a hold of Erik and jumped onto the rope. Erik and I fell through a trap door on the stage and landed in a heap on cold stones. Damn, I was going to have a lot of bruises by the end of the day!

"Erik, we need to leave the Opera Populaire at once! Quickly, let's pack money and essentials and get out of here!" I whispered. I could hear the heavy tramp of boots on the stage above us. The police.

Without another word, Erik bolted silently. He was dragging me behind him, but we were moving at a pace that I couldn't keep up for much longer. After all, I was wearing a corset.

We reached the lair, and to my horror I could hear the sounds of an angry mob approaching the lair. We had even less time than I had thought!

"Erik, you get some money while I pack a few essentials!" I gasped. Whew, Erik could run fast! I then jogged to my room and threw a dress, a brush, and a little jewelry into a bag. I didn't want the mob destroying everything that Erik had worked so hard to acquire! Why did those mindless brutes hunt Erik? Why? They would destroy the organ, the artwork, the room that I now called my own…Damn them!

I rushed out of my room to where Erik was waiting for me. Once I was by his side, he proceeded to smash a rather large mirror. Behind the full length mirror was a dark passageway. Oh, it was dark…shudder. Okay, get a grip Christine, you could do this.

Quickly I glanced back to look one last time on the home of Erik. To think, all of it would be destroyed…Oh, damn! The mob was here! And guess who was leading the horde of mindless zombies? If you said Raoul, you would be correct.

I slipped into the dark, damp passageway before Raoul could see me. Like a shadow, Erik blended into the darkness behind me and concealed the entrance to our escape route. I could hear the sound of the mob ransacking Erik's house, and was surprised to feel a warm tear fall down my cheek. I reached up to Erik's mask-less face and wiped away a tear that had fallen, unbidden, from his eye.

_"Erik, I love you,"_ I sang softly. Erik's only response to my confession was a gentle, loving kiss. That was all I needed. Then, we walked into the enveloping darkness hand in hand.

**Do not despair, there will be a few more chappies for you all. Please remember to review since you all love me so much...**


	11. Escape

**Sorry it took me so long to update. I lacked motivation. Oh, by the way, after I finish this story I will probably write a prequel to this story. It will be Christine's life in modern times. It will be short, but hopefully it will answer all questions you may have.**

**Escape**

The first order of business was to find Erik a mask since his was still lying on the stage of the Opera Populaire. Unless, of course, someone had burned it, stabbed it, ripped it to shreds, or moved in any way. In that case, it would no longer be on the stage. Focus! Okay, so the first thing was to find Erik a mask. That would have been an easy task if Erik wasn't wanted for "murder" (one which he never committed) and extortion. Also, it would have been easier if I wasn't wanted for aiding a criminal. Ah, well. Life can be "complicated" sometimes.

Once we procured a mask (a nice, decorative black velvet mask. Definitely only a temporary one, as it had flowers painted on it.) we decided that it would be best if we just jumped ship and left the country. The problem was, where should we go?

"Christine, I think that we should go to London. I believe that it would be easiest for us to adjust to life there," Erik commented. I loved London (after all, Dream Christine hadn't been confined to the USA) but something told me that we should move out of Europe. We should go to… America!

"Erik, I have an even better idea! Let's go to New York City!" I exclaimed, suddenly excited. It would be great to see the bustling city where my "alter-ego" had once resided.

After a few moments' consideration, Erik replied, "Well, I guess we could…But let us first sail to London, maybe spend a few months there, then ultimately settle down in New York." That made me very happy. Yay!

"Sounds great!" I exclaimed. Well, now all we needed were two tickets to London…

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We left Paris as quickly as possible, traveling to a smaller fishing town on the coast. Our plan was to find a fisherman who would be willing to ferry us across the English Channel. If no one was willing to take us to England, we would simply rent or "borrow" a boat. It was a relatively simple plan.

After about a week of walking and riding horses (yes, it wasn't as bad this time as it was last time) towards the ocean, we came across a costal village called Cherbourg. It was a pretty town and suited our needs perfectly.

Fortunately, Erik was not lacking money, so a large enough bribe secured us a ride on a fishing boat. Unfortunately, the boat was _miniature_! I swear, there wasn't enough room on it for one person, let alone three! And how did the fisherman fit the fish on?

For four days we were confined to that little barrel on the open sea! Four days smelling the oily, pungent smell of fish! Four days of retching over the side of the boat, our faces green from sea sickness! FOUR DAYS WITHOUT A BATH!

If we had been on that boat for another day, I am fairly sure that I would have pulled my hair out and jumped overboard!

We finally landed inLewes, England. It was a small port city, and in every way normal. Or so it seems. I learned upon our arrival, however, that every November 5th, the whole town turns into a haven for pyros! Something about burning a treasonous jerk who wanted to blow something up… And apparently this isn't the only town in England that celebrates fire! I believe Erik and I have just entered a country run by the criminally insane…

We quickly made our way from Lewes to London, not wanting to linger in the town. It was nice, to be sure, but we were in a "hurry" to get to London.

We reached our destination after three days of travel. London. I gasped as soon as I saw the city. It was…a disappointment! A hundred years in the future it was a refined, exciting city teeming with diversity. Now, however, it was just a dirty, industrialized city. It was, unfortunately, not all it was cracked up to be. Sigh.

Erik, however, seemed to be in architectural heaven. I wanted to point out that if he had ventured out into the light of day while in Paris, he would have seen many magnificent structures. Ah, well, at least he was having fun. And, at least we weren't spending the rest of our lives here. I could handle a few months in London if necessary.

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It was our last week in London. We had spent the past four months in this polluted, dirty city. We definitely stayed longer than originally intended, but Erik enjoyed it here. There had only been one "incident" the entire time here.

We had been walking down by the river on a flower-lined cobblestone path. It had been, of course, nighttime since Erik still refused to go out during daytime. We had been minding our own business when a little street urchin had jumped from behind a bush and threw rocks at Erik and me. Erik wanted to kill the boy, but I quickly calmed him. After all, the boy hadn't thrown rocks because he had seen the mask. It had been too dark out. The boy had only acted out of his own amusement.

Tonight we had decided to go for a walk along the river again, not in the same spot, but at some other romantically secluded area. After all, we were now officially "an item." We deserved a time to just go and make out in public for no reason other than that we wanted to.

Tonight, however, was a little different. We were standing underneath a huge tree, surrounded by various flowers. The perfume of the opening blossoms lay heavy and thick in the spring air. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss Erik passionately. Can you blame me? I mean, come on! It was just so romantic!

My night took a turn for the better when Erik, his eyes never leaving mine, knelt down in front of me. He held a single crimson rose in his gloved right hand. I took the gift and was about to thank him when my heart stopped. Inside the petals of the rose lay a ring. It was subtly made, the platinum band twining around the tastefully large diamond. An engagement ring. A gorgeous engagement ring. For me.

"Christine," Erik said gently, "you mean the world to me. You are my morning, my day, my night, my everything. I love you. Will you marry me?" He asked.

For a moment, I was speechless. When I finally found my voice, I whispered, "I love you, Erik!" and knelt down beside him. I slipped the ring onto my finger, allowed Erik to tuck the rose behind my ear, and threw my arms around him. We held each other close, our lips meeting with a passion neither one of us had known existed. He was in love, and I was in love. We needed wait no longer before we two became one.

Before we could share our love physically, however, Erik tensed. He then threw me into one of the bushes, jumping in right behind me. I would have asked what he was doing, but I realized as soon as I heard a voice. A male voice. I knew that voice…

Raoul was walking with a woman holding his hand. What was he doing in London? From what I could see, the garishly made-up woman was a prostitute. Damn! That bastard was going to ruin my time just so he could fuck a whore! (excuse the language, but "making love" wouldn't have been the appropriate term as they wouldn't have been making "love")

Uh, oh! I had to sneeze! Goddamn allergies! I held it in as best as I could, but, though there was no sound, the leaves on the bush trembled. Unfortunately, Raoul had been looking in this general direction and had seen the bush quiver…

**ooh, I is evil! hehehehe! Aww, fluff-ish stuff! And a cliffie-ish thingy! hahaha, i amuse myself sometimes**


	12. Face in the Darkness

**Sorry about the long-time-no-update thing. I've been busy horseback riding, among other things. Speaking of horseback riding: I am _really_ happy b/c I got a first place at the Radnor Hunt jumper show on Sunday! YAY! I love my Rodger (my horse)! okay, now back to my story thingy. It's gonna be a short long chappie, and hopefully a good one. Hope you all like it!**

**Face in the Darkness**

Ugh. Raoul. Damn. Him. He. Should. Stop. Ruining. My. Life. Okay, so there was definitely no way that we could escape Raoul without an odd, and very possibly deadly, confrontation. Why, God, did you feel it necessary to give me allergies?

As soon as Raoul had seen the movement of the bush, he had excused his lady friend. She seemed to be rather upset that he wouldn't be fucking her. I think she wanted more than the money. Ah, well.

Raoul, in "stealth mode," crept towards the shadows that Erik and I were hiding, half naked (we had been _planning_ to make love under the stars. Somehow, Raoul always seems determined to spoil a perfectly good moment. Sigh.) Erik held me tightly, so I was pressed to his muscular (drool…) chest. He seemed afraid to let me go, lest I be tempted to run to the arms of Raoul (gag.)

"Come on out, I know you're in there!" Raoul stated. His voice seemed calm, almost detached, but his face showed fear. He probably thought we were assassins or something. After all, he didn't know that it was ME hiding in the bush.

Erik dressed quicker than I thought possible, and within ten seconds he was blending into the shadows behind Raoul. I dressed as well, trying to move as little as possible and attract as little attention as possible. I didn't want Raoul to shoot the bush I was hiding in.

I saw Erik's hand move to the inside of his coat and pull out a Punjab lasso from a hidden pocket. If I hadn't already known that he had committed murder in the past, I would have been shocked. However, having read both novels and seen the play, I had a fairly decent idea of what had really happened in Erik's past. Just because Erik had killed once, however, doesn't mean that he has to kill again. After all, just because you hate someone doesn't mean they should drop dead.

To prevent Erik from murdering the man whom I had once considered a friend, I stepped out of the bushes and into the flickering light of the nearby streetlamp. Erik saw me do so, and quickly caught my eye. I tried to silently convey my intentions to him. After all, it wouldn't be good if he thought that I was leaving him for Raoul. My eyes left Erik's and alighted on Raoul's face. I saw Raoul's expression: it was one of bewilderment. Well, compared to an assassin, I was a pleasant surprise.

"Christine, what are you doing in London?" Raoul asked. Like I wasn't allowed to travel?

"I could ask the same of you," I retorted icily.

For a few moments he just stared at me, as if he were thinking of the best reply. After all, I'm sure he wanted to look heroic, and not like the idiot he really was. Finally, he said, "I was looking for you. After a month of searching in France, I decided that the monster-" I bristled at that word, and I could see Erik's knuckles turn white as he clenched the lasso tighter "-that kidnapped you fled from France. So, I came here." He concluded.

"And who was that woman, your colleague?" I shot at him. I took immense satisfaction seeing Raoul flinch. I took even greater pleasure knowing that he had no answer for me. What can I say? Though once he had been a friend of mine, he did nothing now to deserve more friendly treatment from me.

Raoul decided to change the direction of the conversation. "Well, I can see that you are no longer a captive of that freak, so would you now return home with me?" he inquired. I felt like gagging. What is home? I no longer have a home. No, wait, I have a home: in the arms of my Erik.

"Raoul, I am not going back with you," I stated simply. He looked flabbergasted (I love that word!).

Slowly, he seemed to realize that I was not being kept against my will. His facial expression changed slowly from shock, to thoughtfulness, to an even greater degree of shock, to anger, to outrage, to incredulity, and finally settled on disgust. If it had been any other time or place, I would have laughed aloud. He really does look funny when his eyebrows shoot up and almost reach his hairline.

His eyes snapped back into focus, telling me that either he had finished thinking or had given up thinking. He looked at my dress and said suddenly, "I can't believe you wanted to fuck a freak!" Whoa! How'd he find out what I was doing? I looked down and saw to my horror, that my dress was twisted (and obviously hastily thrown on), my boots were on my wrong feet (that would explain the discomfort…) and I had a hickey on my neck! Oops…

I recovered quickly and retorted, "I can't believe you wanted to fuck my grandma!" After all, the prostitute was looking a little past her prime…

Raoul started to slowly "morph" (for lack of better words) into something I didn't know any more. His eyes turned wild looking, his stance turned aggressive, and his mouth curled into a cruel smirk. Okay, now what was he up to?

Without warning, Raoul pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it right between my eyes. Um…let's just say it was scary and leave it at that. After all, just a twitch of his finger and I would have been dead.

Erik, always my hero, lassoed the gun with the Punjab lasso. The gun was quickly whipped from Raoul's hand and flung far enough away that Raoul couldn't get to it. Then Erik punched Raoul squarely on the jaw. I flinched slightly, knowing that the punch hurt Erik as much as it did Raoul. A few more punches were directed to Raoul's stomach and various places on his head. Erik's hand was definitely broken, but then, so were Raoul's nose and cheekbone.

Suddenly, Erik stopped entirely. Why? I saw Raoul's body quivering with maniacal cackles, and his hand held something that lay embedded in Erik's stomach…

"NO!" I screamed, and rushed forward to catch Erik as he fell to the ground. I couldn't even see as tears fell from my eyes. Oh, please God, let Erik be alright! I looked to the heavens, praying to the suddenly cloudy night sky that Erik would live.

While I was immersed in my misery, Raoul had taken the opportunity to retrieve his gun from the ground. He then strode triumphantly towards where Erik and I lay on the ground. The gun was pointed at Erik's head.

"Well, well, monsieur monster! It looks as though it will be I who triumph!" exclaimed the ever egotistical Raoul. I saw the look in Erik's eyes: one of regret. He then blacked out.

Raoul smirked, then held a hand to me. I spit on it. He wiped it off on his trousers and poised the gun, ready to shoot Erik and end my fiancé's life. Before he could do so, I quickly yanked the knife from Erik's stomach and gave it a new sheath: Raoul's chest.

Blood spurted from Raoul's chest, his lungs filling with the life-giving liquid. He drew a shaky breath that rattled in his lungs, then fell forward, never to get up again.

The heavens spilled forth the tears of angels. They were not the only tears shed that night. Together, Erik and I lay in a pool of blood and rain.

Okay, time to collect my thoughts. Now was not a good time to lose my wits entirely! If Erik was to survive, I needed to keep a level head. I could have a panic attack latter.

I tore a strip of cloth off of my dress (it was beyond repair anyways…) and pressed it to Erik's stomach wound. I was no doctor, but the knife wound's location didn't seem to be fatal. If Erik were to die, it would be from loss of blood and not location. That was why I needed to bandage his stomach as soon as possible.

Once I had finished that task, I got up quickly and ran over to some bushes. I then retched for a good ten minutes. After all, there was so much blood everywhere…Never again do I wish to see so much blood outside of the human body.

I felt surprisingly little remorse at killing Raoul. He had threatened my life and that of my fiancé. There had been no way around it. I had only done the right thing. I just couldn't help but wonder, however, what had actually happened to Raoul to turn him into the psychopath that I had murdered.

I didn't have time to think about that, however. There were more pressing matters at hand.

I went to kneel by Erik's side again and checked his pulse. His heartbeat was faint, like the beating of a butterfly's wings. His breath was shallow, and he was ice cold. I needed to get him a doctor.

Thank goodness we were near the upscale section of town, and I needed not look very far to find a doctor. I rapped on the solid oak door and, though it was midnight, a tired looking woman answered. She pushed her glasses up her small nose and squinted, then asked, "Who are ye?"

"There's no time! I need a doctor quickly! My fiancé was stabbed in the stomach!" I exclaimed. That woke her up, and she immediately ran to fetch two burly young men. They seemed shocked to see me in such a condition: covered in blood, dress in tatters, shoes on wrong feet… but I had given no thought to my appearance. I could worry about that latter.

Together, the four of us made our way to where Erik lay, still unconscious. The men hoisted him onto their shoulders with great difficulty. After all, though they were giant men, so was Erik. He stood taller than the two of them, although he was a little less massive.

The next few hours passed by in a blur. I remember people rushing all over, having a warm mug of soup pushed into my dead hand, having a blanket wrapped around my numb body, and closing my eyes from a world of death and awakening into a world of just Erik and me.

I woke from my slumber to the cheerful sound of birds chirping out the window. I stretched and winced. My legs were asleep and I felt needles shooting throughout my muscles. The dew glistened on the leaves outside the small building. The sunlight reflected off of the water droplets seared into the back of my eyes. I wish everything would stop being so cheery and bright!

"Excuse me, Miss," said a timid, mousy young woman. "The doctor just wanted me to inform you that your fiancé will be alright." It took a few seconds for the news to register in my brain, but when it did I jumped up and hugged the girl. I felt like shouting for joy! Oh, glorious day!

**I just couldn't leave you all wondering if he was alive or dead. I'm not that cruel. Let's see if I can get more than 50 reviews! I hope so!**


	13. News

**WOW! YAY! I GOT OVER 50 REVIEWS! WOOOOOOOOT! Okay, now I will try and act sane (insane giggling) okay, well at least as sane as I am capable of acting. Which actually isn't very sane at all. Why am I calling it sane then? I dunno…WHATEVER! FOCUS! Glad you all seem to enjoy my story. This will be more of a filler chappie, but some "interesting" things will occur. I think. Perhaps we will learn the mind of our precious Viscomte in this chappie? Or next chappie…whatever. Please remember to review!**

**News**

"When can I see him, doctor?" I inquired, still on cloud nine. Erik will be okay! Thank God! I had been so frightened that he would never wake up. There had been so much blood, and Erik's heartbeat had been so faint…

The doctor took off his glasses and wiped them off on his sterile white coat. He then replaced the spectacles on the end of his prominent nose and replied, "He isn't awake now, but you are welcome to see him."

I needed no further urging, and I walked at a pace that could probably be considered a full sprint down to Erik's room. I hesitated outside the door. Fear crept back into my heart as I wondered, 'what if he never makes a full recovery? What if his hand never heals? WHAT IF HE CAN NO LONGER PLAY THE PIANO OR VIOLIN?'

Oh, that would be awful for him to never create music again. True, he could still sing, but he would dearly miss playing instruments. And it would all be because of me. All because he had to fight off a former suitor of mine!

At those thoughts, tears sprang to my eyes. Just thinking about it made me miserable. But I quickly wiped my tears away, along with those doubtful thoughts. There would be no way for me to know if he was well or not if I just stayed out in this hallway for an eternity! I needed to face facts. Sure, Erik would be devastated if he could no longer play the piano, organ, etc, but we would still have each other. That, as of right now, was the most important thing!

I braced myself for the worst and pushed open the door to reveal my Erik, asleep on the hospital bed. He looked downright frail! The excessive amounts of blood that he lost last night had caused him to look pale. He was as white as a ghost. His left hand was splinted, and I couldn't even see one long, elegant finger. He was in bad shape, but…he was alive and that was all that mattered!

I walked towards a chair in a corner of the room and, as quietly as possible, dragged it next to the bed. Even though I had attempted to be silent, however, Erik's eyes shot open at the scraping sound the chair made. I winced, hating to have awakened Erik when he needed his sleep.

"Good morning, Mon Amore," crooned Erik in a voice barely above a whisper. His golden eyes were soft and loving. If he hadn't been in such a bad condition, I would have jumped on him and snogged him. As it is… I contented myself with kissing his cheek. His left cheek, not his right. The doctors had decided not to remove his mask, giving him at least that little bit of privacy.

"'Morning, sunshine! How are you feeling?" I inquired.

"Not too bad, considering. Tell me honestly: How bad do I look?"

"Honestly, you look like you went through a meat grinder, got made into a sausage, had a cat eat you, and then got regurgitated by said cat. But you're alive, and that is all I care about," I replied. Erik flinched at my description, mock pain and amusement showing through in his eyes.

"So, have the doctors mentioned anything about when I am going to be released from this jail cell - I mean hospital?" Erik asked.

"I didn't bother asking. I basically ran right here as soon as I received the news that you would live!" I replied.

Erik sighed exasperatedly and commented, "I need to hire new help. You aren't a very good evil lackey." Ever since he had started hanging out with me, he had acquired an odd sense of humor, very similar to my own. I was beginning to think that I was a bad influence on him…

"No, I'm not. But then, I wasn't aware that I was only your henchman! I always thought I was your partner in crime! When you first met me, all you could talk about was how we would do everything equally! We would _both_ drop sets on egotistical divas! We would _both _send ominous notes to the managers! But I see how it is now! Well, you can kiss my butt good-bye!" I screeched in mock anger. Then we both collapsed into hysterical fits of giggling. Ah, life was good.

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After a few hours talking to Erik, I was ushered out of the room by the doctor. The doctor's excuse was that Erik needed sleep. Pfft, sleep.

I decided to go for a little walk around town, maybe get some breakfast at a coffee shop of some sort. Well, I guess dinner was a more appropriate term. Since I had been unable to keep food down last night after the incident, the last time that I had eaten was supper yesterday. Too far off in my opinion.

I found a small little coffee shop that served a decent scone and tea breakfast/dinner. Fortunately, the scones were heavy and served with thick clotted cream and jam, so I left the café with a full stomach. Thank goodness!

After dinner, I strolled down the streets and into an open-air market. There I idly browsed the goods that various merchants were selling. For three hours. What can I say? I love to shop. But then, I'm only female.

A little boy was holding a newspaper aloft and shouted the headline's caption, hoping to attract a customer's attention above the din of the marketplace. I decided to purchase a newspaper. After all, I was bored and had nothing better to do. I paid the boy the penny for the newspaper and walked over to a small café where I could sit and drink a cup of tea while reading.

After I had a cup of tea within reach, I unfolded the newspaper and read the headline. It read, "French Nobleman Found Dead."

I nearly spat out my tea. Oh, my God! The tabloids were quick!

I quickly continued reading. "_The Viscomte de Chagny was found dead this morning near St. Paul's Cathedral. He had been brutally stabbed in the chest. His fiance-" _What? Okay, now I was mad! Had he told the world that we were getting married even though I had refused him? _"was our own Princess Louise, daughter of our Queen Victoria."_ WHOA! Well, Raoul had definitely been looking for a suitable wife around after my refusal of his marriage! And guess what? He found one!

I couldn't read any more of the article. I needed some answers and I needed them now!

I slapped some money down on the table to pay for coffee, got up, and marched towards the road, my heels clicking against the cobblestone street. There, I tried to flag down a cab. Eventually I succeeded in getting one to stop, although it did take quite a while.

"Where to, Miss?" asked the driver, a man I would guess to be about fifty with flaming red hair speckled with the white of age.

"To Buckingham Palace!" I replied urgently in English accented by a lifetime spent in Brooklyn.

"Are ye here to do some sightseein'?" inquired the driveramiably in his lilting Irish brogue.

"Not exactly."

**Like it? Hate it? Please, remember to review!**


	14. Explain to Me

**Alright, life is a little hectic for me right now, so I'm apologizing (yet again) for the lack of updates. Also, I couldn't log onto my fanfic account when I actually finished this, so sorry. There are only going to be about two or three more chappies, so at least you won't have to deal with the long time no update thingy any more. I'm gonna write a short prequel to this story, so if you want to learn about Christine's "future" life I suggest you read it. Okay, now to your feature presentation!**

**Explain to Me**

I sat in the plush carriage, waiting to move. We were stuck in traffic, and for a half an hour we hadn't moved a single inch! Damn pointless and heavy traffic… I vowed that on my return trip I would just walk!

Since we probably wouldn't be moving for a little while longer, I took the time to nap. After all, I was exhausted and had absolutely nothing better to do. So, I lay down on the seat, blankly staring at the wooden door of the cab. Oh, dear. This could take some time…

Although I was tired, my mind had too much on it. I desperately needed answers, and until I had them my mind would not let me rest. Also, now that I was FINALLY comfortable, I felt the cab jerk forward in movement. Damn. Well, that's ironic, isn't it?

No point in trying to get any more sleep. We were only a couple of blocks away and as soon as I shut my eyes I would have to open them again. Damn once more.

My driver pulled up near Buckingham Palace, but not in front of it. Silly, paranoid English people… did they really think I might pose a threat? Well, I might be dangerous to the princess… I paid my driver generously for the ride, more than it was actually worth. Well, he was a nice middle-aged man who probably had children. He needed the money more than I did.

I walked briskly towards the palace, but slowed my pace considerably when I neared it. After all, I still needed a plan. It wouldn't do to just march into Buckingham Palace and demand to see one of the princesses. Those scary guards with huge hats don't let just anyone into the palace. Okay, time to think up a clever ruse…

I quickly jumped into the shadows of a back alley. There I straightened my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles acquired randomly throughout the day. After all, I needed to look presentable if I were to pass as a countess…

Thank goodness Erik wasn't a pauper. If I had been wearing a dirty or "poor" dress I surely wouldn't have a chance actually passing as nobility.

Once I looked presentable, I strode out of the alleyway, doing my best to look elegant and important. I probably only looked snooty and arrogant. Ah, well. It would have to do. After all, most nobility I have come in contact with lately have been rather pompous…coughRaoulcough.

I approached the palace and was stopped by one of the guards. He asked me to explain who I was, so I told him that I was the Countess de Chagny. I was a widower, because my husband Philippe had been killed in a hunting accident. Fortunately, the guard believed my story and allowed me to enter. Hmm, the guards were pretty lax here…

I was ushered into a fancy room, filled with frills and doilies and elegant furniture. The dominant colors were whites and pastels. Not my taste, but most people don't take interior decorating advice from me for a reason. In that lacy room I was met by some important looking official. I was asked what my business was, and I said that I had come to offer my condolences to Princess Louise. I was then promptly ushered to another room to wait for the princess. Sigh. I was getting _very_ tired. After all, I didn't have a full night's sleep last night. But I needed to stay up for at least this meeting with the princess. Afterward, I could go fall asleep next to Erik.

The elegant Princess Louise sauntered into the room after I had been sitting there for about a half an hour. Though I usually respected royalty, her arrogance was really irking me. It appeared that Raoul and her had been perfectly suited for each other.

Before I could get madder at her, however, she said, "I apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. I was only told five minutes ago that you were waiting for me. Why have you come here? I was told that you are the widowed sister in-law of my late fiancé."

Before admitting the whole truth to her, I checked the door to make sure no one was listening.

"Don't worry, I dismissed all of the guards," Louise commented. I immediately sat back down, more comfortable knowing we were alone.

"Well, I needed to talk to you so I, er, _made up_ the part about me being Raoul's sister in-law," I told her. Even when I confessed this, she didn't seem to be surprised. I think she had known I wasn't married into the de Chagny family.

"I don't really know how to explain this, so I'm just going to tell you exactly what happened," I started falteringly. "Raoul proposed to me last year, but I turned him down. He stalked me afterwards until I was able to escape from Paris. Then, last night, Raoul came across my fiancé and me. He tried to kill us." I conveniently left out the part where I killed him. I probably didn't need to explain anyways. Louise seemed to be a more intelligent person than I had originally taken her for.

For a moment Louise was silent, so I took that time to look at her more closely. After all, she did look familiar… She was tall, probably about six feet. Her features were strong, but she was refined and beautiful, even if not considered a classic beauty.

She finally spoke. "Well, Raoul never told me about you, for obvious reasons. I think I can explain why he might have been mad enough to murder you. You see, yesterday Raoul had come over for tea. When he got here, I told him that I no longer wanted to marry him. You see, for a little while now I have been feeling that marrying him would not be a good idea. I didn't love him, and the marriage had only been arranged so France and England would be on better terms. Also, I am in love with another man. He is not nobility, however, and my mother might not approve of my marriage with him. You see," she said, spreading her hands to emphasize her meaning, "life isn't always easy."

"You can say that again," I murmured. "Well, at least I can see why he was feeling particularly murderous yesterday. And I had thought someone had just forgotten to give him his Prozac." With that last comment, Louise looked at me strangely. Oops, I forgot Prozac wasn't around yet…

For a few minutes the two of us went back to our tea, absorbed in thought. I glanced back up to her and felt that strange sensation that we had already met. I knew who she was, so why couldn't I place her?

"Forgive me, but do I know you?" I questioned.

She chuckled and said, "Well, you have known me for the past half hour."

I sighed and explained, "No, I feel like I have met you before."

With this her face looked more serious. She looked a little older. I could almost place the face…

"You mean you haven't figured out who I am yet?" she inquired. I shook my head and she sighed gustily. Finally she replied, "I'm Faerie Dust, or whatever name it was that I used to talk to you."

I dropped my china tea cup on the floor, where it shattered into thousands of fragments and spilled all over the expensive rug.

"Oh, now I will have to have the rug cleaned." she sighed.

**I don't really know what Princess Louise looks like, so I just made up that description to suit my purposes. I hope this chappie answered a few questions! Though I'm sure that you all have even more questions... but you will all have to wait! muahahahaha!**


End file.
